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V .^ 



NEW CONNECTICUT. 



' Still her gray rocks tower above the sea 

That crouches at their feet, a conquered wave : 

' Tis a rough laud of earth and stone and tree, 
Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave; 

Where thoughts and tongues and hands are bold and free. 
And friends will find a welcome, foes a grave; 

And where 7wne kneel save zvhen to heaven they pray. 

Nor even then, unless in their own way.''* 

Halleck's "Connecticut. 



New Connecticut. 



an 3utobi0grap|)tcal poem. 



BY 



i^ 



A. BRONSON ALCOTT. 
u 

By F. B. SANBORN. 



^J. 



12 1887^ f 



BOSTON: 

ROBERTS BROTHERS. 

1887. 






v^ 



Copyright, t88i and i88b, 

By a. Bronson Alcott. 



©nfbergftg ^rega : 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



TO 



F. B. SANBORN. 



Accept^ dear friend^ this ?'ustic lay, 
Owing its polish to your learned sejtse, 
The while the lingering winter's day 
Held all my sadness in a rapt suspense. 

Concord, June, 1881. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

Introduction v 

Part I. The Farmer's Boy 7 

II. The Pedler's Progress 57 

III. The Adventure Renewed 73 

IV. Failure and Retreat 93 

Notes '. . . 103 



INTRODUCTION. 



I HAVE undertaken to edit for my ancient friend, Mr. 
Alcott, this naive work of his, conceived and executed 
after his eightieth year, but not brought to completion 
when, at the age of eighty-three, he lost the power of 
writing by a stroke of apoplexy. Since that time (Oct. 
24, 1882) he has reviewed, and to some extent re-ar- 
ranged the material for an autobiography which he had 
long been collecting, and which his friends had for 
many years been urging him to edit. The first edition 
of this volume, privately printed in 1881, and the 
"Sonnets and Canzonets" of 1882, were the beginnings 
of a poetical autobiography, to which he intended to add 
notes, and to continue the work in prose during the 
years from eighty to ninety, in which, as he supposed, 



VI INTRODUCTION. 

the kind Providence that had wonderfully ordered his 
long life would still extend to him health and the vigor 
of his pen, that had never been more active than from 
seventy-five to eighty-three. But the death of his friend 
Emerson, in April, 1882, warned him of the hazards that 
wait on age, and he may then have regretted, as all his 
friends must, that he had so long deferred a work which 
he alone could adequately perform. 

In explanation of these humble cantos, descriptive of 
the childhood and youth of a remarkable man (whose 
thread of life has connected one century with another, 
and who bridged the gulf between Puritanism and the 
Concord School of Philosophy, with all that those remote 
terms imply), I will here give from the history of his 
native town, Wolcott, the dates and outlines of Mr. 
Alcott's biography. 

The first settler of Wolcott, John Alcock, of New 
Haven, left a son. Captain John Alcock, who hved on 
Spindle Hill, along with his brothers, each possessed of 
a good farm. At his house his grandson, Amos Bronson 
Alcott, was born November 29, 1799, being the eldest 



INTRODUCTION. vii 

of eight children of Joseph Chatfield Alcox and Anna 
Bronson, his wife. The homestead of Joseph Alcox was 
near his father's, and it was there that Mr. Alcott spent 
his boyhood. The present house, built in 1819, is that 
from which Mr. Alcott set forth for Boston in 1828, when 
he began his active career in the great world. It stood 
near the fork of the road, where in former times was the 
district school-house in which Mr. Alcott and his cousin. 
Dr. William A. Alcott, commenced their education. This 
school-house has now disappeared, and the house and 
farm of Joseph Alcox have suffered from neglect since 
his death in 1829. He was a skilful farmer and country- 
mechanic, making farming tools and household utensils 
for his townsfolks, and having the best tilled and best 
fenced farm (of nearly 100 acres) in the Spindle Hill 
district. Two of his brothers had built log cabins on 
their clearings and lived in them in the early part of 
this century, but he always occupied a frame house, 
and lived with comfort, though with frugality. He was a 
diffident, retiring man, and kept much at home, content 
with his simple lot, industrious, temperate, conscientious. 



Viu INTR on UC TION. 

honorable in all his dealings, and fortunate in his do- 
mestic life. 

His wife, the mother of Bronson Alcott, deserves spe- 
cial mention, since from her he inherited his name, his 
early religious training, and the general turn of his mind. 
Anna Bronson was the daughter of Captain Amos Bron- 
son, of Plymouth, — a man of property, influence, and 
decided theological opinions, somewhat at variance with 
those of the majority of Connecticut farmers at that time. 
She was the siste^ of an eminent clergyman and scholar, 
Dr. Tillotson Bronson (mentioned on page 45, and in 
the note following), who educated many clergymen for 
the Episcopal Church, of which he was a leader in Con- 
necticut. He would gladly have trained his young 
nephew for that profession, and, indeed, began so to do, 
but the auspices were not propitious. Mrs. Alcott as- 
sented with sweetness to the choice of her son, and 
maintained through her long life the tenderest relations 
with him. She taught him early to keep a diary, and he 
learned to write by practising with ':halk on her smooth 
kitchen floor. He was a pupil of Dr. Bronson in 18 13, 



INTRODUCTION. ix 

and studied with Rev. John Keyes, the pastor of Wolcott, 
ini8i5. In 1825, after the unlucky ending of his adven- 
tures in Virginia and Carohna, he again lived in Dr. 
Bronson's family, and acted for a while as his secretary, 
assisting in the publication of the " Churchman's Maga- 
zine " of which Dr. Bronson was editor. At this time he 
wrote to his younger brother, Chatfield Alcott, then living 
at a distance from home : — 

" We, dear Brother, have a kind and affectionate Mother 
— a Mother who has not had the return from us (on my 
part at least) that her virtues demanded. In the humble 
sphere in which she has moved she has been the means of 
doing a good deal. She has exemphfied the maxim (which 
you and I and every one else should endeavor also) 'To do 
all the good which our means afforded, and as little hurt.' " 

In a later record he says : — 

" I assisted my parents in husbandry and housewifery dur- 
ing my childhood and early youth. From the age of six to 
ten years I attended the common school near my Father's 
house, during nine months of the year; and from ten till I 
was fourteen, during-the winter months. Our ' copies ' were 
set by the school-master in books made of a few sheets of 



X INTRODUCTION. 

foolscap stitched together, and ' ruled ' with a leaden plum- 
met. We used ink made of maple and oak bark steeped in 
indigo and alum, which we manufactured ourselves. With 
this I began keeping a diary of my doings, with some entries 
of the weather and events, at twelve years of age ; it con- 
tained some notice also of my reading, and a catalogue of 
the books read. This diary was continued without interrup- 
tion, including my experiences while travelling in the South- 
ern States, till the time of my school-keeping in 1825; and 
had extended to some twelve volumes. But in 1833 it was 
unfortunately burned in Philadelphia, with my early corre- 
spondence and business papers." 

What this diary briefly mentioned, the present volume 
of verse and prose sets forth more fully and in another 
form. 

Mr. Alcott says : " My Father was skilful in handicrafts, 
— making plows, yokes, rakes, scythe-snaths, boxes, 
brooms, baskets, and other implements of husbandry 
and articles of housekeeping. In these arts I inherited 
some portion of his skill, and early learned the use of 
his tools. In the spring of 1814, I went to work in the 
clock-factory of S. Hoadley, about two miles from my 



INTRODUCTION. XI 

father's, but in Plymouth ; and continued there, putting 
together clocks, during the summer and autumn. Being 
discontented, I was permitted to return home and go to 
school about New Year's, 1815. Early in the spring, 
not being yet sixteen, I journeyed on foot with my cousin 
Thomas, as far as Western Massachusetts, peddling small 
articles from house to house, and extending my knowl- 
edge of geography and mankind. We made two trips, 
and visited the old Connecticut prison of Newgate, but 
made no money. In the autumn of 18 15 I travelled into 
Eastern New York and obtained many subscribers to 
Flavel's treatise on ' Keeping the Heart.* This work was 
edited by a lady of Bristol, Conn., living near the mer- 
chant, George Mitchell, who had supplied us with goods 
for peddling in the spring." At seventeen he was con- 
, firmed, along with his father, as a member of the Episco- 
pal church, the ceremony being performed in Waterbury, 
by Bishop Brownell ; before and after which young Alcott, 
with his cousin, the late Dr. Alcott, used to read the 
church service on Sundays at the school-house in their 
neighborhood. The two cousins also carried on a boyish 



xu INTRODUCTION. 

correspondence, and founded a small library for their 
mutual improvement. A few years later, as we shall see, 
they visited Virginia and the Carolinas together, on one 
of those peddling pilgrimages which make such a roman- 
tic feature of Mr. Alcott's early life. 

The beginning of these rambles was in the autumn and 
winter of 1818, when the youth was almost nineteen years 
old. At the age of sixteen he had been selling copies of 
Flavel's " Keeping the Heart," and his earnings were 
spent then in New Haven on a prayer book for his 
mother, another for himself, a dictionary, and a supply 
of paper for his diaries. These short journeys in Con- 
necticut, Massachusetts, and New York, had diminished 
his natural bashfulness, and increased his longing to see 
more of the great world. His father and mother would 
have retained him at home, but he resolved to go to Nor- 
folk in a coasting vessel from New Haven, and had a 
dream that he could easily, in Virginia, find a place as 
teacher. Accordingly he sailed from New Haven, Octo- 
ber 13, 18 18, in the sloop "Three Sisters," Captain Sperry 
skipper, with fifteen other passengers, chiefly pedlers 



INTRODUCTION. Xlil 

from Connecticut and workmen going in the employ 
of the Tisdales, Connecticut tinmen, who had a shop at 
Norfolk. The voyage lasted about a week, and young 
Alcott landed in Virginia, October 20. His passage- 
money was ten dollars. For a few days after arriving at 
Norfolk he continued to board with Captain Sperry, but 
soon went to live with Tisdale, the tinman, and was urged 
by him to enter his service. At first he was bent on 
teaching, but having tried from the 24th of October to 
the 1 2th of November, without success, to get a school, 
and being then in debt, the youth accepted his offer, and 
began to peddle for him about the city. Just before the 
Christmas holidays we find Mr. Alcott buying for himself 
a small stock of Virginia almanacs, and selling them to 
the citizens of Norfolk at a profit of two hundred per 
cent. Each almanac cost threepence, and was sold for 
ninepence, and the young merchant easily earned a dol- 
lar or two a day so long as the holidays lasted. Then it 
occurred to him to enlarge his stock, and to sell trinkets 
and silks to the famihes in the surrounding country. He 
went, therefore, to a dealer in " fancy goods " at Norfolk, 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 

and bought wares costing nearly three hundred dollars, 
which he bestowed in two small tin trunks, to be carried 
in the hand, as the pedler journeyed on foot from house 
to house. There were tortoise-shell combs, thimbles, 
scissors, various articles of ornament for ladies, puzzles 
and picture-books for children, spectacles, razors, and 
many other wares for the men, besides needles, buttons, 
sewing-silk, and much more that was not then a pait of 
a pedler's stock in Eastern Virginia. 

The first trip was made in January, 1819, and was a 
circuit from Norfolk, by way of Hampton, along the 
James River for a while, then across the country to York- 
town, and by the York County plantations back to Hamp- 
ton and Norfolk again. Both goods and merchant found 
unexpected favor in the eyes of the Virginians. An 
American foot-pedler, a bashful Yankee, neither imperti- 
nent nor stingy, was an agreeable novelty in those regions. 
He was kindly received at the great houses of the plant- 
ers, where he generally spent the night, accepting cour- 
teously their customary hospitality, though sometimes 
sleeping in the slave quarters. On Sundays and rainy 



INTRODUCTION. XV 

days, when his trade could not be pursued, this diffident 
and bookish Autolycus remained in the planters' houses, 
and had permission to read in their libraries, where he 
found many books he had never heard of before. In that 
part of Virginia lived some of the oldest and best de- 
scended families of the Old Dominion, with large and 
choice libraries, which they allowed the young man from 
Connecticut to explore for himself. Biography was his 
favorite reading, then poems and tales, and he had a 
keen appetite — not so common among lads of nineteen 
— for metaphysics and books of devotion. Covvper's 
*' Life and Letters," Locke's '' Conduct of the Under- 
standing," and Lavater's "Physiognomy," were among 
the books thus read ; nor was his childish favorite, 
" Pilgrim's Progress," forgotten, which he found in fine 
editions among the Virginians. 

The region where he had lived was one of the most 
primitive parts of Connecticut, and, though it was so near 
to those centres of culture, Hartford and New Haven, 
was but scantily supplied with books. There were not 
a hundred volumes in the parish library, and it had fallen 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

into disuse when Mr. Alcott was a lad. He used to get 
permission from his father on Saturday afternoons to go 
round to the houses of the farmers in Wolcott for sev- 
eral miles to examine their libraries and read their books, 
which included the Bible, and perhaps half a dozen other 
books, among them Bunyan's " Pilgrim," Hervey's *' Med- 
itations," Young's " Night Thoughts," and Burgh's " Dig- 
nity of Human Nature," a book then in much vogue 
among the country people of New England. These vol- 
umes would be kept on a shelf in a corner of the family 
room, and young Alcott readily got leave to borrow them. 
It was his custom to borrow and read the " Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress " once a year ; and this book, more than any other, 
gave direction to his fancies and visions of life. Wol- 
cott, indeed, might pass either for the Hill Difficulty or 
for the Delectable Mountains, according to the mood of 
the inhabitant of its uplands. The township lay high, 
and Spindle Hill, or " New Connecticut," was at the 
summit of the range of Wolcott hills, commanding 
a wide prospect on all sides. Seven parish steeples 
were in sight, and from an oak-top the young Chris- 



IXTR OD UC TlOJSr. xvii 

tian could see the glittering waters of Long Island 
Sound. 

Books were always his solace and delight, and he read 
constantly of evenings, and while resting from work at 
noon, during his father's nap or pull at the tobacco-pipe, 
in which he indulged himself moderately. Sometimes, 
too, the barefoot boy took his book afield with him, and 
read under the wall or by some tree, while the oxen 
rested in the furrow. 

To a youth thus bred, the comparatively elegant and 
courtly life of the wealthy Virginians was a graceful and 
impressive revelation, — the first school of fine manners 
which he had entered. An English gentleman, hearing 
the story of Mr. Alcott's early years, — his farm life and 
his progress as a pedler, — could scarcely believe it true. 
" Why," said he, " your friend has the most distinguished 
manners — the manners of a very great peer." He would 
have been still more surprised to learn that it was during 
the years of peddling that this polish of manner began to 
be acquired, by contact with a class then esteemed the 
first gentlemen in America. 



XVlll INTRODUCTION. 

During the early months of 1819 he visited the Vir- 
ginian towns of Portsmouth, Smithfield, Williamsburg, the 
old capital of the colony, Gloucester, and others in that 
region, and traversed the surrounding districts, without 
anxiety or misadventure, and with something to show at 
the beginning of April as the profits of the winter's trade. 
More than a hundred dollars was the net income, after 
all debts were paid ; and travelling homeward with this, 
Mr. Alcott put ^80 into the hands of his father, as the 
price of the six months' time he had taken from the work 
of farm and shop. The money went into the new house 
which the father was then building (in 181 9), and which 
is still standing. In November, 181 9, Mr. Alcott and his 
brother Chatfield went to Virginia again. On the 24th of 
January, 1820, they wrote home, saying: "We have 
been very successful in business, and have traded as much 
and sold at as good advantage as we ever anticipated. 
We hope to do better hereafter, for we have but just 
begun, and Chat is altogether unacquainted with peddling. 
He does well, and will make a very good hand at the 
business before we return. He sells nearly as much as 



introduction: xix 

I do, and at about the same profit. Our articles afford 
(exclusive of expenses) ^i'hh P^^ Q.^Vi\. profit ; conse- 
quently, in selling one hundred dollars we clear thirty- 
three dollars. The last trip we made we went out 
together and were gone just two weeks. I sold one hun- 
dred dollars' worth of property and Chatfield about fifty 
dollars'. I am calculating on keeping him in the coun- 
try while I come to Norfolk to buy goods ; he cannot be 
of any service to me here (Norfolk), and our board costs 
but very little in the country, though three dollars a 
week here. . . . Father and Mother, how do you think 
we look? Like two awkward, poor, unpolished, dissi- 
pated, homespun, begging, tugging Yankee pedlers, think 
you ? No, this is not the case with your sons. By peo- 
ple of breeding and respectability they are treated with 
politeness ; and if they are sometimes treated with con- 
tempt by the low, vulgar class of the community, it is 
then not worth minding. For my part, I can make 
peddling in Virginia as respectable as any other business, 
however humiliated and contemptible I may appear to the 
silken sons of pride and dissipation." In May, Chatfield 



XX INTRODUCTION. 

went home with sixty-five dollars profits, and on July 28, 
Bronson reached home with a hundred dollars. These 
sums also were paid over to their father toward the build- 
ing of his new house. 

October 8, 1820, Bronson and William Alcott sailed 
from New Haven for Charleston, S. C, intending to teach 
in South Carolina; but by December 5, they were in 
Norfolk, Va., after making the journey on foot from 
Charleston to Norfolk, and betook themselves to peddling 
again. During this winter Bronson Alcott suffered from 
a severe typhus fever, and William Alcott took care of 
him. The profits of the season were small, owing to this 
illness and other unfavorable circumstances. On his way 
home in June, Mr. Alcott visited for the first time 
Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. 
His prosperity in Virginia had made him extravagant, 
and he bought on Broadway a costly suit of clothes, which, 
to the surprise of the Wolcott farmers and the chagrin 
of his father and his cousin William, he wore home in 
July, 1820, paying for them, but neglecting to pay the 
merchant, Allyn, of whom he had bought his goods in 



INTRODUCTION. XXI 

Virginia. Consequently, in September, 182 1, Joseph 
Alcox was compelled to endorse his son's notes for two 
hundred and seventy dollars, due to Allyn, and the 
burden of debt began to weigh down the family. In 
October, to retrieve his fortune, Bronson Alcott, with his 
brother Chatfield, set forth again for Virginia, " driving 
a wagon bought at Berlin, Conn., laden with goods bought 
at Meriden (on credit), and some clocks also," their 
father giving the horse. The enterprise cannot succeed ; 
" the costly coat scorns peddling, and sinks money fast." 
Peddling will never do, after all ; and at Norfolk, April 7, 
1822, Allyn the merchant takes the horse, wagon, and 
goods to pay his account; the younger brother Chat- 
field goes on with his peddling, and the spendthrift takes 
refuge in North Carolina, where he will teach a writing- 
school. This adventure fails too, and he makes his way 
home on foot and in poverty, arriving at Wolcott in June. 
Not quite willing to abandon the hope of retrieving his 
fortune, he set forth again for the South with his cousin, 
Thomas Alcox, in October, 1822, and spent the winter 
in North Carolina, among the Quakers of Chowan and 



XXU INTRODUCTION. 

Perquimans counties, returning in the spring of 1823. 
Here he saw much of the Friends and read their books, 
such as William Penn's *' No Cross, no Crown," Barclay's 
"Apology," Fox's "Journal," and other works of like 
spirit. The moral sentiment, as Mr. Alcott has since said, 
now superseded peddling clearly and finally. 

To this point in his Hfe, the present volume brings the 
romantic youth. His career as a school- master, which 
he next entered, soon made him known to the public ; 
as it had previously led to his acquaintance with Miss 
May, of Boston, whom he married in 1830. This union 
of hearts and minds Mr. Alcott has celebrated in his 
" Sonnets ; " where also appear portraits of his friends 
Channing, Emerson, Garrison, Hawthorne, Parker, Phillips, 
Thoreau, and John Brown, — the last-named, like himself, 
a son of Connecticut and a religious enthusiast. Among 
these friends there were not wanting those who, in turn, 
have paid their tribute to Alcott himself. I cannot better 
close this chapter than by citing two of these, — in verse 
and in prose. 



INTR ODUC TION. 



TO ALCOTT. 

Not only in the camp, 

But near the scholar's lamp, — 

Not with the clash of arms, 

But in thy heart beat valor's charms ; 

I know the splendors of the great, 

The blazing halls, the ruby wine, — 

But in thy truth is an estate 

Not all their fancies could combine. 

A dull, vexatious age 
Thy hand could not engage, 
King of a heavenly band 
More opulent in command ; 
As Fate is never known to fail 
I count thy gains full certain yet. 
Nor trust that winter, coldly pale. 
Shall, freezing, force thee to forget. 

I can foresee thy worth 
Beyond the State, or Earth, — 
That in thy courtly band 
Both Kings and Consorts stand : 



XXIV INTRODUCTION. 

Thy peace is not a parchment scroll, 
But pure integrity of heart ; 
Though waters roar and thunders roll 
That beats as gentle in its part. 

Give me the happy man, 

And wealth the weary clan, — 

And their manorial blessing 

To those who need possessing; 

But come, thou tender, trusting Sage, 

My house, my heart, my hope is thine ! 

Bright jewel of this bankrupt age. 

Rich cup for an immortal wine ! 

I bent at beauty's power. 
And, scorned, I hate the hour : 
Capricious was the child, 
Fickle of heart, and proud, and wild ; 
Thou standest firm, and saintly still. 
Though decades fleet, though youth outdies, 
The glory of a virtuous will. 
The candor of old Truth's replies. 

Thus wrote Ellery Channing in the days commemorated 
by Hawthorne, when they rowed their boat together on 



INTRODUCTION. XXV 

the Assabet. Henry Thoreaii, encamped by Walden Pond, 
a few years later, drew this portrait of Alcott, which the 
years have not dimmed, and which posterity will recognize : 
"During the winter of 1846-1847, there was another 
welcome visitor who came through the village, through 
snow and rain and darkness, till he saw my lamp through 
the trees, and shared with me some long winter evenings. 
One of the last of the philosophers, Connecticut gave him 
to the world ; he peddled first her wares, afterwards, as 
he declares, his brains. These he peddles still, bearing 
for fruit his brain only, like the nut its kernel. His words 
and attitude always suppose a better state of things than 
other men are acquainted with, and he will be the last 
man to be disappointed as the ages revolve. He has no 
venture in the Present. But though comparatively disre- 
garded now, when his day comes, laws unsuspected by 
most will take effect, and rulers will come to him for 

advice. 

* How blind that cannot see serenity ! ' 

A true friend of man, — almost the only friend of human 

progress, — with his hospitable intellect he embraces 



XXVI INTRODUCTION. 

children, beggars, insane, and scholars, and entertains the 
thought of all, adding to it commonly some breadth and 
elegance. Whichever way we turned, it seemed that the 
heavens and the earth had met together, since he enhanced 
the beauty of the landscape. I do not see how he can 
ever die ; Nature cannot spare him." 

It must interest mankind to know how such a character 
was nurtured ; and in this little book, sometimes vague, 
iterative, provincial, and always artless, we have the story 
told in part. 

F. B. Sanborn. 

Concord, October, 1886. 



NEW CONNECTICUT. 



PART I, 

THE FARMER'S BOY. 

Beneath the mountain's brow, the o'erhanging wood, 
The farmer's boy had here his humble birth, 
From to\\Tis remote, in rural neighborhood ; ^ 
His education at the homely hearth. 



NEW CONNECTICUT. 

A highland district and a rugged soil, 
By rough roads crossed, and dangerously steep; 
Mad River's mill-stream tumbles with turmoil 
O'er its rash cataract with furious leap. 

Far up the slope a winding pathway leads 
The forest's edge along, the summit gains ; 
Wide now around the opening prospect spreads, 
Ample reward for all tlie traveller's pains. 

Within the circle of the blue sky's rim 
Peer forth in sight fair towns, tall steeples gleam ; 
The wavering hues of Hancock's Brook show dim ; 
Yonder wild Naugatuck, his mother's stream. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. g 

Mountain magnificent ! still unrenowned, 
Unsought for delicate air and lordly view; 
Fields, orchards, murmuring woods, valleys profound, 
All aptly named '^ Connecticut the New." 

Southward the charming landscape fills the eye, — 
New Haven's beauteous shades and classic ground 
Behind old Carmel's hills, hidden, yet nigh. 
Close harbored on Long Island's sandy sound. 

Nearer, within short distance, there discern 
Potucko's woods, where once for snaring game 
The Indian fired his brushwood ring; in turn 
Himself was caught, and perished in the flame. 



lO NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Not three full lifetimes now had passed away 
Since this wild woodland planted was and claimed 
By his robust forefathers, old and gray, — 
Farms, orchards now, and '' Farmingbury " named. 

Here modest pride their pedigree might name, 
Trace back their lineage to Old Ely's see, 
And Jesus College on Cam's English stream. 
Whose Vigilant Bird still names the family .^ 

In Winthrop's ships across the dismal sea 

Their fathers came, and honored names they bore 

In Boston and its neighboring colony, — 

From Roxbury journeying to New Haven's shore.^ 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 

Thence inland marching, the first settler "* here 
Surveyed his thousand acres, bound by bound; 
His labors ended, left his titles clear, 
In fit proportion, to his children round. 

His eldest heir, of military port, 
Won from his kinsman's hand a captain's sword ; 
Bold Trumbull's "minute men," in field and fort, 
Heard his commission and obeyed his vvord.^ 

Of Derby's ancient stock his lady came. 
The gentler virtues in her sweetly blent; 
The Matron of the Hill, — a gracious name, — 
Grandchild of Yale's first-chosen president. 



12 NEW COXXECTICUT. 

Borne as a bride tlirough the deep, dark defile, 
Behind her lord on pillion seated high, 
Mistress of his new mansion, she, the while, 
Views gorge and river with admiring eye. 

Bold scenery here, and wonderfully wild, — 
O'er the steep, jagged rocks the hemlocks lower, 
Darkening the wave below ; and high o'erpiled 
On either side the Alpine summits tower. 

His upland district had received its name 
From many a spindle, busy wheel, and quill; 
Such household arts bestowed a local fame, — 
It bore the homely title, " Spindle Hill." ^ 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 13 

Eastward the meeting-house near two miles stood, 
Reached by steep roads, and past Mad River's mill ; 
A few plain houses in near neighborhood, 
All, by preeminency, named " The Hill." 

There, on the rock, the plain gray structure shows. 
Not with broad belfry or tall steeple crowned ; ^ 
And down below the precipice repose 
The long-lived forefathers, yet unrenowned. 

The boy's grave sire,^ although a captain's child. 
His mother's virtues had, her quiet air. 
Her patient steadfastness and temper mild ; 
Ingenious, bashful, scrupulously fair. 



14 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Resources had he when the inclement skies 
Held him from wonted labor in his fields ; 
Some handicraft in useful ways he plies, 
And this, meanwhile, an ampler income yields. 

Skilful with tools, and in good husbandry, 
Well harvested his crops, and safely stored. 
By change of toil he earned a competency. 
Frugal and sober, spread a bounteous board. 

Apartments few his low-roofed home possessed ; 
The simple household's competent estate 
For service, meal-times, shelter, and sweet rest. 
All on each other dutifully wait. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 1 5 

Convenient the wide-mouthed chimney's flues 
For wholesome warmth below, but overhead 
In chambers cold, thick coverlets of all hues, 
And quilted by his mother's hand, are spread. 

Pipe, almanac, above the mantel-piece, 
Deep-seated arm-chairs standing carelessly, 
The floors uncarpeted, no spot nor crease, — 
Safe the latched door without or bolt or key. 

Outside, the shop, where each rude implement 
For farm or household use was finished new ; 
There stood the loom, with treadles violent. 
While cunning fingers shot the shuttles through. 



1 6 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

By the shop's side the aspiring well-sweep shows, 
And tilting downwards dipt the bucket's rim 
Sidelong below, dropt hand o'er hand ; uprose 
With sparkling waters dripping from its brim. 

Across the meadow near, the orchard lies, 
Its goodly fruits all in their season ripe ; 
And by the winding fence, of biggest size 
The early apples hang, of ruddy stripe. 

The choicer fruits are in the garden set. 
The cherry-trees along the broad wayside; 
Across there steals a little rivulet, 
Or big with rain its narrow banks doth chide. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 17 

From forth the rock, near by, a cooling spring 
Drips into brimming trough for creatures' sake ; 
All round each waits, as a concerted thing, 
In turn, impatiently, their thirst to slake. 

Close by the roadside, at the thicket's edge, 
Not long time since befell a tragedy ; 
For there among the chestnuts by the ledge 
The woodman died beneath the falling tree. 

The mild-eyed mother, seasonably wed, 

A finer culture brought to these rude parts. 

Of sprightly race, considerately bred. 

And thus accomplished in all household arts. 



1 8 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Bold scenery her homestead's view confines; 
Beside the meadows green the river glides, 
Mount Jericho uplifts his towering pines, 
And fruitful orchards crown the steep hillsides. 

Pinioned behind her white-haired patriarch 
She often rode, while o'er the saddle swung 
The Sunday's luncheon ; he, the man of mark. 
Read service, sermon, set the tune, and sung. 

Oft his well-mounted dame with homespun roll. 
Woven by herself, betwixt the river and hill, 
Paced the long distance to the city's goal. 
And therewith paid young " Tilly's " college bill.^ 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 19 

In household tasks his sisters did excel, — 
From roll and distaff spun an even thread ; 
Quick with their needles, yet they could right well 
The wholesome meal prepare and table spread. 

Good sleight of hand his brothers' several art, — 
Their fingers apt, yet less with book and pen ; 
The lathe and chisel were their chosen part. 
Nor shallow knowledge theirs of times and men. 

Not learning but hard labor theirs to give 
For homely comforts, neither beg nor steal ; 
Such idlers as on others' earnings live 
Their firesides share not, nor their frugal meal. 



20 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Here raise the curtain on the evening scenes, — 
The father baskets weaves, the sisters sew. 
Apples the brothers pare, the mother spins, — 
The boy in books finds his Elysium now. 

A comely child, his aspect sage, benign, 
His carriage full of innocence and grace ; 
Complexion blond, blue eyes, locks brown and fine, 
And frank expression in his rosy face. 

Of letters mindful, emulous of lore. 
Not wiUingly let he occasion slip 
To chalk upon his mother's cleanly floor 
His earliest essays at rude penmanship. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. : 

Her family's heirloom, a rude cabinet, 
Stood near, choice things there hid for privacy, — 
Old " Dilworth's Spelling-Book " lo (its alphabet 
Black-lettered) and her maiden diary. 

Rare moment when she blessed his childish sight 
With its quaint pictures, — cloud-throned Hercules, 
Responsive to the wagoner's sad plight, 
Will not to rescue come till, raised from knees, 

The wheels he shoulder, and his horses scourge. 
His thought for once his mother's did outrun. 
Nor needed she his quick intention urge, — 
Next morn his little journal he 'd begun. 



22 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Lovingly his mother did her lore impart; 
While with soft eyes he did her daily see, 
Flushed his young fancy, touched his tender heart, 
His conscience christened in his infancy. 

Boy not without his faults, at home, at school, 
Brimful of fancies and his own quaint will, 
Sly thief of time for frolic, book, and tool, — 
Needs patience, counsel, good example still. 

Evenings and mornings are permitted hours 
For studies which delight him and refine ; 
He writes his journal or his book devours : 
Book-shelf or corner is his chosen shrine. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 23 

Thus by his parents scrupulously bred, 
Religious both, industrious, plain, and poor, 
His infancy he passed, by fancy led. 
By fellowship unharmed, or learning's lore. 

Full soon his infant gifts to task he brings, 
Impatient the fair world around to know; 
Finds here his alphabet in nearest things, 
And writes his thought with finger-pen on snow. 

At cross-roads near the district schoolhouse stood 
Disconsolate ; ^ ^ its wide-mouthed chimney heats, 
Fuelled all winter long with soggy wood, 
Scarce reached the shivering pupils in their seats. 



24 NEW CONNECTICUT, 

All round the room the hacked pine tables range, 
Long seats in front, in corner dungeon set ; 
Master will lessons hear, books interchange, 
Mend pens, set copies, point the alphabet. 

On Saturdays forth came, yellow and dim, 
New England's Primer, and the scholars all 
Lord's Prayer recite, commandments, cradle-hymn. 
And fatal consequence of Adam's fall. 

Rude was the dialect spoken here, and strong, 

It pained his ear ofttimes, and finer taste ; 

Old Entick's columns near, he dipt among. 

And for his thoughts found words more apt and chaste. '^ 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 25 

Not much he gained at this rude nursery 
Of homely learning, — taught to spell and read, 
A glimpse he caught of ciphering's mystery. 
Was sometimes mischievous, often at " the head." 

Yet for fair penmanship, both clean and neat, 
He often won the wished-for monthly prize, 
Which gave him preference for the better seat, 
Desirable in every schoolmate's eyes. / 

Most memorable that morning hour obscure. 
When with his playmates in tumultuous shout, 
He sallied forth, much dazzled, and yet sure 
Some one, up there, had snuffed their candle out. ^^ 



26 NEIV CONNECTICUT. 

Under the cool shade where the brook did flow 
From forth the fissures, with contriving hand, 
Often he dabbled in the pool below, 
And turned his flume across the softened sand. 

Here, too, his water-wheel was proudly set, 
That drove the pitman's movements underneath. 
And sent the forces of the rivulet 
Against the slicing saw with slashing teeth. 

Soon, while soft suns with the sere frosts do vie. 
Drawing sweet juices upward in the spring, 
The woods he forages green sprouts to spy, 
And from his rod the piping whistle wring. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 27 

The treacherous fowHng- piece and dangling hook 
Most scrupulously he from choice forbore ; 
Enticed but once, young angler, to the brook, 
Thy one inveigled minnow quick restore ! 

First Monday in September and glad May 
Brings round the train-bands drest in blue and red, 
The proud platoons their glittering guns display, 
And he his fourpence spends for gingerbread.^"* 

At the Great Falls, Mad River with a bound 
Turns the prodigious wheel with motion slow, 
And sets the furious millstone whirling round, — 
Then from the dripping buckets drops below. 



28 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Hither he rides, his sack of grain astride, 
Waits while his grist 'neath the harsh millstone churns, 
The miller taking toll, — then mounts with pride 
Atop his load and leisurely returns. ^^ 

His week's work done, he to the mill-pond hies, 
His thirst for agile river sports to slake ; 
With the coy swimmers plunge, then proudly rise, 
And from his dripping locks the spangles shake. 

Perched on the wheel-mill's axle, with birch thong 
Forward the unwilling beast he urges round 
The beaten track; tedious the day and long. 
Yet comes no respite till the pile is ground. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 29 

But when compelling screws the pomace squeeze, 
And the luxurious liquor forth is prest, 
His privileged moment then the boy will seize, 
Ply well his straw, the cider sip with zest J ^ 

Then comes his tall white-haired grandfather old, 
And takes his little namesake on his knee, 
While his deep pocket does red apple hold, 
That morning plucked from his June apple-tree. 

Sometimes his kindly aunt the boy detains. 
Brings from her pantry shelf her new-baked bread, 
And while she pleasantly him entertains, 
Butters his slice, with toothsome honey spread. 



30 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

From the log cabin near his uncle comes, 
Tells wondrous stories of old warlike times, — 
Of Farmingbury's red fifers, rolling drums, — 
And war-songs perpetrates with swaggering rhymes. ^^ 

Of his commissioned father loves to tell — 
His "minute men" — their secret countersign; 
Of Jersey's battles, and what sore befell 
The Continental troops at Brandywine. 

To cheer the genial neighbor, whom long eve 
And wood-fire welcomes with its friendly blaze, 
The cup he passes, hopes he will not leave, — 
Too short the time while he conversing stays. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 3 1 

Sweet pastime his whene'er the lowering skies 
Indoors his neighbors prison and detain; 
Then chalk, or book, chisel or lathe, suffice 
To hold his hand, beguile his busy brain. 

Once curiously he from the rifted bole 

Of a clear-veined maple-tree shaved thin 

A violin's hollowed sides, and the neck's scroll 

Car^^ed quaintly, then drew music from within. ^^ 

Yet less skill had he mth the fiddle-bow. 
And dexterous mastery of mellifluous sound. 
Than subtle insight of this splendrous show 
Unmasking nature's mysteries profound. 



32 NEW CONNECTICUT, 

Oft on the height will he his morning pass, 
On his dim future musing dreamily, — 
Coin piles of glimmering wealth from isinglass. 
Apt type of his ideal pageantry. 

Or, idly lingering by the near brookside. 
His frolic fancy quick enchanted sees 
Along the shallow margin spreading wide. 
Fair sand-sheets for his artless traceries. 

Good pleasure has he in the harvest-field, — 
Their forenoon's luncheon left in the cool spring, 
While the blithe mowers scythe and cradle wield, 
Lay swath of grass or grain with widening swing. ^^ 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 33 

Again on wintry days with thumping flail 
The sheaves he threshes with a hearty will, 
Then fans and winnows, measures the full tale, 
And pours in sacks all ready for the mill. 

Sometimes on sled he to the wood repairs, 
The runners creaking o'er the frozen ground ; 
Smites the tall tree, no dexterous blows he spares 
Till down it crashes with an echoing sound. 

November loiters with the wished-for feast, 
The bright flames kindled in the " spare room " smile 
On cousins sleek and shining in their best, — 
Pudding and compliments, in turn, beguile. 



34 A^y?/^ CONNECTICUT. 

Nor fail they when in rustic glee to call 

Black Tony's sweeping bow; when the smooth floor 

Checkers with dancers in gay festival, 

The custards waiting till the reel is o'er.^o 

In graceful motions of the whirhng dance 
And cheerful froHc joined he diffidently; 
Preferred the rather kindly consonance 
Of heart with heart in silent courtesy. 

Pleased when behind the jingling, merry bells, 
With tightened rein in mittened hand they ride 
Along the turnpike road, by glades and dells, 
His veiled Amanda sitting at his side. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 35 

Indoors the Needle's Eye they both must pass, 
Its thread that runs so nimbly and so true ; 
It has caught many a swain and blushing lass, 
Best prize of all, Amanda, it caught you. 

" Then come. Philander, let 's be marching, 
Every one speaks from his heart-string; 
Choose your true-love now or never. 
And forever choose no other. 

Love, farewell ! darling, farewell ! 

We are all for marching, marching." ^i 



36 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Thus must he fonvard fare, the farmer's boy, 
Beyond the limits of his neighborhood ; 
Eager of heart, companionable, if coy. 
Society he sought in sohtude. 

One youth he knew, in sight of chimney's smoke, 
Fired with the love of letters, — only one ; 22 
Together they a fairer lot bespoke, — 
For fortune's frown let mother-wit atone. 

Of kindred mind, as kindred by descent, 
Their evenings they in studies choose to spend; 
Seek each the other's lore to complement. 
Their diaries keep and weekly letters send. 



THE FARMER'S BOY, 37 

Like books they borrow, projects entertain, 
As life its opening pages round them spread ; 
What gifts are theirs seem not yet clearly plain, 
Their expectations vague and dimly read. 

For news long two miles ride they, at week's end, 
The papers from New Haven posting slow,^^ 
Though hostile Indian cruelties impend, 
And Erie's Lake sees Perry sink the foe. 

Parades are common in those boyish days; 
Young citizens will drill in rank and file ; 
Captain, lieutenant, ensign, will display 
Their wooden guns in creditable style. 



$S NEIV CONNECTICUT. 

Through scenes grotesque and wild glides Hancock's 

Brook, 
Precipitous its sides, with ivy crowned; 
Neglected long, yet not at last forsook, 
It leaps the mill-dam o'er with plashing sound. 

Down from the farms the rustic youngsters come. 
Drain the steep mountain of its bravest blood. 
Each hand and tool accord to factory's hum, 
And higher pay they gain beside the flood. 

Here in the shop, above the flume and sand, 
While whir the forces of mechanic fate. 
Busied aloft, where the red clock-shops stand. 
His fingers guide Time's o'er the dial-plate.^^ 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 59 

Meantime he counts each hapless morn and night 
The while his six days' wages here he earns, 
Till up the ivied gorge, for home delight, 
By Saturday evening's moonlight he returns. 

Past now his twelvemonth's long apprenticeship 
To arts mechanic, he seeks some amends 
For missed attainments, and for scholarship 
The parson's three months' winter term attends.^^ 

Their morning walk the cousins here did take 
From Spindle Hill to the small schoolroom, where 
Far more they gained themselves for learning's sake 
Than all their learned pastor had to spare. 



40 NEW CONNECTICUT, 

A few disciples near had Wesley found, 
Here in derision called the " Brand New Lights " ; 
The curious cousins seek the camping-ground, 
Their eyes to flatter with the novel sights. 

Confusing scene ! with its pale kerchiefed saints. 
And shrill, sweet songs, the trumpet's call for prayer. 
The rapturous shoutings, and the piteous plaints, 
The tearful glories, agonized despair ; 

Swoonings from fancy or from gloomy fear, 
Mingling despondent woe with cloudless bliss, 
Feigned sometimes seemed and sometimes all sincere. 
Mid forest's glimmer and deep night's abyss. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 4 1 

Longwhile these wood-notes, like high minstrelsy, 
Came floating downward on his raptured ear, 
Chanting the dear All-Loving Mystery, 
In ardent melodies, heartfelt and clear : — 

"Jesus saw me when a stranger 
Wandering from the fold of God ; 
He, to rescue me from danger. 
Interposed his precious blood. 

'* Oh ! to grace how great a debtor 
Daily I 'm constrained to be ! 
Let thy goodness, like a fetter. 
Bind my wandering heart to thee." 



42 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Then sometimes went he by the ivied road, 
Wading the brooks with banks moss-Hned and high, 
Through the deep gorge to his grandsire's abode, 
Where the wild Naugatuck swept rushing by -^ 

Mount Jericho's ledge, and thence along its shores 
Dashed, heedless of the driftwood's eddying whirls, 
As by the cornfields green it onward pours, 
And 'gainst the jutting rocks its current chafes and curls ; 

Now, swollen by numerous streams, the flooded bank 
Sees Waterbury's mills beside it rise, 
Whose varied industry, in growing rank, 
Sheffield and Enghsh Birmingham outvies. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 43 

There quivering o'er its reed-grown stagnant mire, 
Hid 'neath steep hills, the ambitious village slept. 
Hugged its white houses and its towering spire ; 
Round Abrigador's ledge Mad River swept. 

Nurse of fair business and laborious art, 
Whose fostering carefulness, unsparing hand. 
Transformed the vale into a bustling mart, 
Broidering with enterprise the river's strand.^^ 

Home of shrewd wit, its tributary brook, 

Whence Trumbull's genius scorched McFingal's crest, 

Chapfallen traitor, his suspicious look 

By tar-pot's feathering fleece rudely suppressed.^ 



44 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Defiant still, it cleaves Rock Rimmon's pile, 
Mingling its wave with gallant Humphrey's name ; 
Friend of Mount Vernon's chieftain, he, the while, 
And warrior poet of provincial fame.^^ 

Vale of unpictured grandeur, dost await 
The artist's graceful pencil, eye, and hand? 
Thy peaks, forth looking o'er " The Steady State," 
Behold each stream by iron railways spanned. 

Beyond the confines of his neighborhood 
A fairer country lay, he had not seen ; 
Yet ere within its space his footsteps stood. 
Thither his travelled thought post-haste had been. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 45 

Bound for New Haven's port, in rustic guise, 
At Cheshire pauses he, through spy-glass views 
The landscape round : rather his curious eyes 
The bookshelves capture and their leaves peruse. 

Here dwelt his reverend uncle Tillotson,^'' 

With priestly gifts and wholesome learning graced ; 

His noble namesake's faith he taught anon 

In this sequestered academic place. 

At church or school he might not miss or pass 
Nor Hebrew Joseph's, nor old Homer's tale ; 
The while he reads, recites before his class, 
His mild eye moistens and his accents fail. 



46 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Sound knowledge his and deep sagacity; 
All seemings pondered he and duly weighed, 
Deemed all diings had a subUe unity, 
And of " Religion, Science the handmaid." 

With cane and buckled knee he oft did tread 
With stately step the pleasant village green ; 
His rosy cheek he bares and hoary head, 
And cons his verses for the magazine. 

At sight of the Elm City's shadowed Green,^^ 
Its bustling streets, long wharf, and shifting shrouds 
On ocean's armlet in the offing seen, 
Amazed, the boy's quick fancy overclouds. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 47 

Breaks on his vision here the livelier scene, — 
A world of business, varied, imconfined ; 
Aside is drawn the dark withholding screen, 
Mount Carmel's curtain he now looks behind. 

This mart of wonders new his eye detains, 

While by his father's guidance curiously 

He views the dazzling shops, the wharves and lanes. 

And plain gray homestead of his ancestry. 

Nor does he pass unwonderingly the pile 
Of venerable name, where Pierson's hand 
Had shaped Yale's future happily, meanwhile, 
In liberal learning foremost in the land. 



48 JVEIV CONNECTICUT. 

Amidst the scarcity of men and books 
He seeks what food his district can supply; 
All round for miles most curiously he looks, 
His hunger to appease, by chance to satisfy. 

There lived an aunt not far, of serious mind, 
Who loved her books and lent them with advice ; 
Coming and searching carefully, he did find 
Young's Night Thoughts and great Milton's Paradise, 

With other pieces of pure piety, — 
What holy Hervey once did " meditate," 
Burgh's book of Human Nature's Dignity,^^ 
Adventurous Crusoe and his savage mate. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 49 

Again it chanced, when on this quest for lore, 
Forth from smoked covert eagerly he drew 
(Like prize his eye had never seen before) — 
The Pilgrim's pictured Progress, strange and new.^^ 

O charming story ! dear, delightful book ! 
Haply, I have thee now, my latest found ; 
My haunts by meadow, forest, rock, and brook 
Made, as I read, by thee enchanted ground. 

Fair Salem's turrets in the distance see, 
Delectable and clear, above the mist ; 
Nearer, see burdened Christian frightened flee 
From flashing mountains' flame, warned by Evangelist. 



50 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

See, see, the puddle there, — Slough of Despond, — 
Far in the valley low the city's fate ; 
Still farther on, and farther still beyond, 
Behold in sight '' the little wicket gate." 

Its homely pictures fill his startled mind ; 
A-field his oxen in the furrow wait 
The while he reads, beneath the shade reclined, — 
Too soon his candle fades at evening late. 

His sacred classic now the book became, 
Its text oft copied, read anew each day, — 
New fledged his fancy, set his heart aflame. 
Led him to follow safe in Christian's way. 



I 



THE FARI^IER'S BOY. 51 

Plainly books have close kinship with his mind, 
And he that kinship will in kind repay; 
Some compensating errand he will find, 
On tables will a goodly volume lay. 

In homespun shawl fast knotted carefully. 

His pack he shoulders, and soon disappears 

The hill-top o'er; down its declivity, 

Like burdened Christian, westward then he steers. 

Far onward wandering he inquires his way, 
Solicits names for Flavel's " Saint Indeed," — 
Saints, sinners, without scruple, sign and pay ; 
He gains their names to the good Baptist's creed. ^-^ 



52 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

His slender profits at New Haven spends 
For a choice copy of the Common Prayer, 
His part to take when weekly he attends 
The Sunday service at the schoolhouse near; 

Where in plain dress he stands, or bends the knee. 
Or in the anthems by the pitch-pipe set 
Responsive joins, or lowly litany, 
That in the pious soul finds echo yet. 

The elders often choose him in their stead 
Lay reader in this dedicated fane ; 
By priestly instincts reverently led, 
The service he doth seriously sustain. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 53 

Plain farmers all, some Churchmen by descent, 
Some signers-off from Calvin's colder creed, 
Assembled here they decent Sundays spent. 
And sowed of All Souls' Church the wayside seed.^^ 

The Sabbath day was holy, and all play 
Was sinful, business next, and visiting too ; 
All should their Bible read, and humbly pray, 
And, near or distant, to the meeting go. 

The morning cavalcade, a proud display, — 
The elders mount, the children safe behind ; 
And swarming households chequer all the way, 
As to the Hill they numerously wind. 



54 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

High o'er the pulpit hangs the sounding-board, 
And close beneath the deacons' sober seat ; 
Room for whole families the pews afford, 
The aisles ecclesiastically neat. 

The singers' seats round the front gallery range ; 
The psalm is read (omitting the fifth clause), 
All round the fugue notes fly in concert strange. 
Yet all in time accord with rapt applause.^e 

Fervent and worshipful ascends the prayer ; 
In order next the serious sound discourse ; 
The application follows ; none can spare 
The benediction, nor free intercourse. 



THE FARMER'S BOY. 55 

Meantime the tithing-man his vigilant eyes 
Straight on the Sabbath- breaker fastens so, 
That scarce he needs to startle and surprise 
.Boys in the galleries or the pews below. 

Nor fails the summer garden to fulfil 
Its Sabbath promise, — sprigs of caraway, 
All 'kerchiefed with sweet fennel and ripe dill, 
The services appetize and make glad the day. 

Dress heightens virtue, Sundays specially, 
Worn then for worship and for conquest now ; 
And no less punctual evening's gallantry 
Than that the morning's service did allow. 



56 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

The custom favored gentle forwardness, 
Those chosen evenings sealed the sweet surprise 
Could happier moment aid youth's bashfulness 
To lisp his sonnet to his lady's eyes?^? 



PART 11. 
THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 

Youth casts its glance into the future far, 
Stirred from within by its deep-felt unrest, 
Led forward by some bright bewildering star. 
And holds a fair ideal in its breast. 

Forth from his nest before the approaching cold, 
Fired by strange impulse and a dim foresight. 
Thirst for adventure, novelty, and gold, 
Our bird of passage takes his southward flight. 



58 JVEJV CONNECTICUT. 

The Genius prompts and sends him out to find 
His proper calling, and his wits to try; 
Leaving his home and friends and farm behind, 
He tempts the future with a prying eye. 

Whilst at New Haven's long, extended quay 
The sloop Three Sisters hoists her ready sails. 
He steps on board ; past Hurlgate, and at sea. 
The little vessel rides with favoring gales. 

On board a breezy company there was, — 
Boisterous and bold ; if winds did lull or fail, 
Straightway, it almost seemed, their blustering noise 
Held taut the canvas and e'en filled the sail. 



THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 59 

Pedlers, by chance, they seek a kindher clime, 

A larger license ; would fond hopes fulfil 

Of ampler wages, cozening there, meantime. 

Than their shrewd wits can earn on that cold Hill.^^ 

Speeds the bold craft before the driving wind 
Past Henry's Cape, sea-kissing Rip-Raps round ; 
Her seven days' passage o'er, the vessel find 
Beside the Norfolk pier all safe and sound. 

There ocean's surges wash the docks and streets, 
The tilted tumbrels line the market's side ; 
Across the ferry Portsmouth's numerous fleets, 
Where navies of all nations proudly ride. ^^ 



6o; NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Knight-errant journeying here, anonymous, 
Dismal his prospects, as he sorrowing learns ; 
Schoolmaster none is this Autolycus, — 
Through Dismal Swamp to Norfolk he returns.'^o 

No, not to teach, as he had fondly dreamed, 
This rash adventure proves no tilt at fame; 
Peddle he will, but not his wits, it seemed, 
Nor widely wandering from an honored name. 

Need pedler's calling propagate disgrace 
In offering almanacs at good people's doors? 
He tries his fortune with his boldest face. 
And sells at largest profits by full scores.'*^ 



THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 6i 

New Year's e'en here lasts not the twelvemonth round, 
And almanacs are passing out of date ; 
Somewhere a wider circuit must be found, , 

Some choicer toys to lure and captivate. 

He ventures next a bold experiment, 
His hand-trunk fills with goods of costly sort,''^ 
Then sallies forth on fresh adventures bent, 
Across the Roads to Hampton's Htde port. 

In homespun dressed, his trinkets by his side, 
He trudges hopeful, bent on goodly gains, 
Thinks, as he plods, with heartfelt, homely pride, 
If friendly fortune come not, wit maintains. 



62 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

By princely mansions and plantations rare, 
Along sequestered road and inland creek, 
Virginia's fallow fields, laid waste by war, 
By Yorktown's ruins, far-famed Chesapeake, 

He takes his wandering way, afar, alone ; 
Rests sometimes by the roadside, undelayed. 
Her tumbling temples notes, her altars gone. 
Deserted now, or in piled fragments laid. 

Now opening through the pines, far off, appear 
The spacious court, slave-quarters, mansion hoar 
Whose guarded gates he passes without fear, 
By kindly hounds escorted to its door. 



THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 63 

Curious the maidens wait ; the queenly dame 
Our bashful chapman's errand will explore : 
" No pedler he, no Northern tarnished name, 
Footman like him ne'er travelled here before. 

" Jewels, choice ornaments, and countless things, 
From Norfolk's mart he bears, a rich display, — 
All these for our convenience here he brings, — 
Never was stranger turned by us away." "^^ 

Kind courtesies our guest from host receives, 
In conversation stays, or hastes away, — 
Amid the learned libraries' charmed leaves 
Left to himself, he reads the livelong day ; 



64 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Or courts the matron's choicer company, 
Mild sunshine mirrored in her friendly face, 
Or daughters' glances shy, yet fancy free, 
Refined by modesty and maiden grace. 

New school of manners for the farmer's boy. 
Here midst Virginia's most illustrious names. 
Still diffident, observant, curious, coy. 
Charmed with her lovely daughters, queenly dames. 

Now morn has come, and he will take his leave, 
Yet on his hostess will some gift bestow ; 
" No, no, ourselves the benefit receive. 
Again return our thanks the while we owe. " 



THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 65 

Gifts to the servants then : the motley ring 
Throng round the doorstep, and with sly device 
Cheapen with praise each preferable thing, 
Pleased to have won it at their own set price. 

The creek across, or through the roadside gate 
Cheerful he passes, while the morning shines 
On his good fortune ; no disasters wait 
As on he trudges and the day declines.'*'* 

If by mischance of travel he fall short 
Of entertainment at some planter's hearth, 
The Cross-Roads Inn becomes his best resort, 
Filled with gay company and noisy mirth. 



66 ATEW CONNECTICUT. 

New England's customs find small favor here : 
A freer life, more opulent, less discreet, 
Far more restrained by courtesy than fear, 
E'en when the master and the menial meet. 

Court days together draw the country round. 
Slave-dealers, slaves, senators of loud fame. 
Judge, jockey, gentleman, checker the ground, 
Dispute, talk politics, trade, drink, and game. 

When Sundays come he joins his host in prayer, 
Or from his bookshelf steals a pure delight, 
Or entertains discourse, or sometimes there 
Within, will letters or adventures write. "^^ 



THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 67 

Sweet rural pictures on the shelves he finds, — 
Goldsmith's good Vicar, piping Traveller, 
The charming Seasons in their several kinds, 
Lavater's chart of face and character."^^ 

Nor can the youth pass by forgetfully 
Old Yorktown's field, where erst the English lord, 
Whom allied foes besieged by land and sea, 
Resigned to Washington his conquered sword. 

Nor William and Mary's University, 
Nurse of proud patriots in former time, 
Of princely manners and nobility. 
Still sighing for its old Colonial prime."*^ 



68 NEW CONNECT/CUT. 

His monthly circuits bring him round again, 
His goods renewed, with new attractions too ; 
Nor YorktowTi nor proud Williamsburg abstain 
From traffic so convenient and so new. 

Through bleak December's sleet and April's rains 
Onward he fares till genial spring appears 
And ends his journey. Profitable his gains, 
Measured by standard of those frugal years 

When knowledge ampler weighed than lighter gold. 

We need not further follow, longer trace 

His circuits by plantations famed and old, 

Nor landlords name, their rank or social place.'^® 



THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 69 

He forms new friendships and finds genial homes, 
In costly mansions spends delightful days, 
Is welcomed warmly when he monthly comes, 
And entertained the while, well pleased, he stays. 

One blot he notes defacing the fair scene, — 
The knot of keys at lofty mistress' side. 
The cowhide's gashes, and the look obscene, — 
Courtesy ill mingling with imperious pride. ^^ 

Did there the Sphinx his gliding sense assail, 
With her beguiling arts and sorceries, 
And did his startled conscience then prevail, 
And hold inviolate the sweet mysteries? 



70 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Happy if he preserve the blest estate, 
And crown Hfe's close with equanimity ; 
Open wide at last the Heaven's cloud-capt gates 
To chaste-eyed Purity with crystal key.^^ 

His business closed, he homeward casts his eyes. 
Pleased to have known such courtly company ; 
Gold gained by his successful enterprise, 
Knowledge far more, and kind civility. 

From Norfolk's Borough and through Hampton Roads 
The freighted coaster sails the ocean o'er. 
Passes the Hook and at her dock unloads, 
In the great mart he sets his foot on shore. 



THE PEDLER'S PROGRESS. 7 1 

Home near, his hopes and fears can he conceal, 
As from the chimney's top smoke curls and drifts? 
He thinks what six months' absence shall reveal, — 
Its threshold crosses and the latch uplifts. 

Welcomed, approved, his gains and ventures told, 
Not strange if round the Hill the rumor ran, 
Gathered, in telling, gloss of glittering gold : 
" No farmer now, but a fine gentleman." 



PART III. 

THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 

Past is the harvest now, the farming 's done, 
The maple glowing with its crimson dye ; 
Soft shines the Indian Summer's yellow sun 
On voyagers of air, that southward fly. 

These omens reading, and the prosperous gale, 
The adventurous cousins journey in due time 
To snug New Haven's wharf-side, and set sail 
Again for yonder mild, romantic clime. 



74 A^^?r CONNECTICUT. 

Tempestuous passage has the laden craft, 
By blasts contrarious toward Bermudas borne, 
Till shifting winds and welcome pilot waft 
The crazy merchantman to port, unshorn. 

Unskilful seamen, on a huckstering trip. 

For Charleston's market bound, their bark for sale, 

If, with her cargo and scant seamanship. 

She chance to outride the rough autumnal gale. 

Behind the wains slow-trudging all the way 
Across a country marshy and champaign, 
While wagoners their luggage safe convey, 
Forth to the uplands fare the pilgrims twain ; 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 75 

Through muddy stream and knee-deep puddles wade, 
On some dry hillock pause above the mire, 
Baiting on teamster's forage, undismayed, 
Sleep on pine needles by the brushwood fire. 

By fields of rice, cotton, and indigo 
They travel wearily, with undaunted will, 
Rise to Columbia from the fens below, 
Thence to their wished-for station, Abbeville. 

Persistent then their earlier dreams renew. 
Bright fancy dazzled with the alluring prize ; 
Here the schoolmaster's calling they '11 pursue, 
Hope in their hearts, romance wdthin their eyes. 



76 NEW rn/VN/'.c'nrr/v. 

I'»y sin^^lc terms nrlvciiliirin^ for tlicir Ixj.'ird, 
(!;il)iiic(l ii) walls where snow aiifi rain rnake way, 
N(;ar sfjnie unwholesome s])rin|<, with drinkin/^-^ourd, 
Shall siirh (lull tasks youn^; jjcdagogiics essay? 

Scant rudiments of learnini^^ (rude indeed) 
The K''P'"K' towheads ^'[ather here to ^nin ; 
All of that little did the teacher nccd, — 
Su( h len/^th of body, with su( h lack of brain ! 

Strangely your a]|)hal)et ye travesty, 
Ye dull wiseacres of the rusty land, 
I'ronouiuc your fmal letters learnedly, — 
" I/,/.ard " is xr, and next ronies " ampersanfl.'* 



TJJE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 11 

" Why further stay on Carohna's ground ? 
No prospects open here for hopeful gains ; 
Letter remain at home the twelvemonth round, 
Where ampler wages come for lesser pains. 

" Let us forthwith to Norfolk's port repair ; 
This search for schools, awliile, we '11 set aside ; 
Some other calling, cousin, be our care ; 
Thy disappointment soften, soothe thy pride." 

Along the narrow, fencc^d rojd they passed, 
Rivers they forded, oft inquired the way. 
Their little bundles in their hands held fast ; 
At public houses seldom could they stay. 



78 A'£IV CONNECTICUT. 

Next a long stretch of sand and sterile ridge, 
Persimmon- patches, hovels' smoke and soot. 
Tar forests, Tarborough (with its lengthened bridge) ; 
No other cities on their weary route, 

Till Gosport's pennons, Portsmouth's town appear. 
The pilgrims, pausing there, fresh toilets make, 
Cross the broad ferry with refreshing cheer. 
To lodge in Norfolk by the waters' wake. 

'Twas Christmas, when the fortnight's holidays 
Are given to sport and endless jollity, 
By swarthy mimics in fantastic ways. 
By gentlefolk in decent gayety. 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 79 

The motley pageant in each street is seen, 
Tricked out in equipage of every hue, 
Tripping to jingling thump of tamborine, 
While banjos tinkled, and loud trumpets blew. 

Again, on ground familiar and well proved 
The Yankee cousins here their calling ply ; 
Though such employment be but ill-beloved, 
Needs must they seek it, nor their craft deny. 

Such eager hawkers into business slide, 
Canvassed the Borough, they to Portsmouth cross ; 
Offering the " New Year's Register " with pride. 
They sell their stock, and that without a loss. 



8o NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Next sallying forth, on brighter prospects bent. 
From costly trinkets or plain merchandise, 
Their spirits buoyant, and their minds intent, 
They journey onward with observant eyes; 

Plantations see, tilled by the laboring slave,- 
Rich vessels lading at the neighboring creek, 
Or sailing on some noble river's wave. 
Drank soon by many-throated Chesapeake. 

Memory recalls their brave resounding names, - 
Colonial some, and some of Indian trace, — 
Potomac, Rappahannock, York, and James, 
Of royal sound, or Pocahontas's race. 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 8i 

Again our pedlers trudge the frozen road, 
Through piny forests fare, round creeks they skirt; 
The gates unbolting to each grand abode, 
They pass the growling mastiffs all unhurt. 

Resistless is their sparkling pedlery. 
All useful things, or comely ornament ; 
Here 's no cajoling nor chicancery. 
Nor profits greater than the fair per cent. 

Good bargains drive they through the inclement weeks, 
Till vexed Aquarius pours chill rain and snow. 
Nipping their fairest hopes : the ruddy cheeks 
Of one young pedler lose their wonted glow; 



82 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

And soon on bed of sickness low he lies, 
While gloomy spectres haunt his fevered brain. 
Shall Reason's sunlight animate his eyes, 
And give him back to the sane world again? 

Sad news from Wolcott Hill his friend received; 
'Gainst these disastrous storms nought could avail. 
From months of weary watch at last reheved, 
He for his mountain home sets instant sail. 

Bereft of thy kind counsel and good sense, 
Ah ! faithful friend ! thou leavest me now alone. 
To joust with fashion and improvidence, — 
The dupe of others' follies, and my own ! 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 83 

Another playmate of life's early years 
Here plied, as oft before, his gainful arts; 
Unsympathetic ran our several ways, 
Yet cousins kindred seem in foreign parts. 

Together first through districts near we rid, 
Environed still by dismal fen and pond ; 
For health and pleasure sought the invalid ; 
His cousin bargains : so through Nansemond, 

And farther southward still their route extends, 
And Carolina's fields their trade invite ; 
On Chowan's banks they found the kindly Friends, 
Drab-coated followers of the Inner Light. 



84 NEW CONNECTICUT, 

There, midst green pastures, with tlieir swarming bees, 
Dwelt these remote, and pastoral lives they led ; 
Not more could Virgil's swains the fancy please, 
On yellower creams, or sweeter honey fed. 

Less versed in books, they trusted Nature's lore, 
Schooled by habitual temperance and sense; 
Of worldly goods they had abundant store ; 
Genial and generous, and without pretence. 

Oft came all pedlers from their circuits round 
To spend " First Day " inside these welcome doors ; 
With goodly cheer their buttery did abound ; 
Bright were their buffets, neat their sanded floors. 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 85 

Few books, — but "Fox's Journal" they revere, 
And Penn's calm rhapsody, "No Cross no Crown;" 
Esteeming silent worship more sincere 
Than loud lip-service and the Churchman's gown. 

Soon came pedestrian tours 'mong gentle folk, 
Who spend their money fast and lavishly, 
Enjoy luxurious banquets, mirth, and joke. 
And take their business late and leisurely. 

So sauntering pedlers wend their devious way 
By fallen church and lowly hermitage. 
By mansions lordly once, now in decay, 
Of Wilson, Taliaferro, Taylor, Braxton, Page. 



S6 XEIV CONNECTICUT. 

Ancestral places of provincial name 
Lure them still farther northward each day's beat, — 
Mount Vernon's homestead of immortal fame, 
Potomac's windings, Alexandria's street; 

Thence forward to the pillared Capitol, 
Blackened and blemished by a foreign foe. 
Whose English prowess men must needs extol, 
Though vengeance more than valor there did show. 

Through Maryland roam they, nearing the free States, 
Past CarroUton and stately Baltimore, 
Swayed once or now by lordly potentates, 
Calverts and Carrolls from the Irish shore. 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 87 

Slow journeying, at the plainer inns they call, 
Hastening, where Clinton his proud flag unfurled, 
To Penn's mild city with its spacious hall, 
Where once a people's challenge roused the world. 

Crossing the Delaware to the Jersey shore, 
They saw the Exile's villa, once of note, 
That sheltered Bonaparte in days of yore ; 
Thence to New York, in Amboy's ferry-boat. 

Whirling with business, pleasure, noise, and pride. 
Here they the city's marvels wistful view ; 
Here will they rest a day from their long stride. 
Refresh their spirits and their garb renew. 



88 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

For homespun suits are threadbare worn, and shine, 
While garish windows all their fancy fill; 
" Clad in this broadcloth, with these ruffles fine, 
We '11 dazzle the plain folks on Spindle Hill." 

The obsequious salesman draws a sumptuous store 
Forth from his wardrobes, smiles complacently, 
And clothes in garments gay, as ne'er before. 
Our spendthrift pedlers, drest full fashionably. 

Debarking at New Haven's lengthening quay. 
In sleekest beaver and resplendent boot. 
Our gallant knights of wayworn pedlery 
(No stages running) take the road on foot. 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 

Thence up East Mountain's rocky steep they climb, 
Passing the Green, the Church, the stores, the mill, ■ 
Familiar places all, from earhest time, — 
Each bound for home on yonder sightly hill. 

In these plain households, startling the surprise 
At such unheard magnificence of dress, — 
" Are these our pedlers here before our eyes, 
These handsome fellows, with such soft address? 

"Black coat? and white cravat of daintiest tie? 
Crimped ruffles, gleaming amethystine pin? 
Vest of Marseilles o'er trowsers of drab dye, 
Gold seals at watch-fob, jewelled watch within?" 



90 NEW CONNECTICUT 

Next Lord's day morning, promptly sally irig forth, 
They flamit in eyes devout their raiment soft. 
Eclipsing thus poor homespun modest worth, — 
These brilliant youth in gallery aloft. 

Not undevout were they, but indiscreet ; 
And whilst the parson broached divinity, 
Nut less devotedly, from seat to seat. 
Soft eyes diffused their pleasant sorcery. 

Come sunset, in the shady path they strayed, 
Courageous slipping by the graveyard lone. 
While on their way to court some handsome maid. 
No dismal spectre seeing, fearing none. 



THE ADVENTURE RENEWED. 91 

Shall this gay youth his soberer cousin see. 
Or journal write? His mirror sees him more. 
Not an accomplished coxcomb yet is he, 
But far less bashful than he was before. 

All through the busy, toiling summer hours 
Will he for pleasure the farm-labor leave? 
If o'ercast sky or threatening cloudlet lowers, 
He copies verses for the Sabbath eve. 

" The lovely young Lavinia once had friends, 
And fortune smiled propitious on her birth." 
E'en so with him, — the sunny chapter ends. 
And sudden darkness setdes o'er the earth. 



92 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Midst these brief raptures and this gay success, 

The sharp attorney, positive and bland. 

Shows his instructions, strict and pitiless, j 

Demanding surety and a note of hand. 

Ah ! now the crisis comes ! With agony 
The frugal father, pledged for wasteful son, 
His lifelong earnings puts in jeopardy, 
And household troubles early have begun. 



PART IV. 

FAILURE AND RETREAT. 

1\ /TR. ALCOTT began in 1882 a fourth part of his 
Autobiography, but had not completed it when 
his illness in October of that year made further writing 
impossible. A few stanzas will be given from this frag- 
ment, in order to continue the story until the summer of 
1823, when, toward the end of his twenty-fourth year, he 
withdrew from this rambling life at the South, and took 
up his manhood's task of education, to which his genius 
called him. He journeyed in the autumn of 1821 
through Pennsylvania and Maryland to Virginia, in com- 
pany with his kinsmen and acquaintance from Wolcott, 



94 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

but without his cousin William, who had been his coun- 
sellor and nurse the year before. His companions now 
were less worthy, and led him into some habits of expense 
and indolence ; which caused the Connecticut dealer of 
whom he had bought his wares upon credit, to refuse him 
further time for payment : — 

Soon this smooth-faced, exacting creditor 

Demands of his delinquent instant pay ; 

Tells him without reserve or metaphor, 

"Why, you 're above your business, — far too gay." 

Forthwith all properties and cash in hand 
To pay his debt are honestly made o'er ; 
Shall he now follow traffic contraband. 
Begging for custom at the planter's door ? 

No, the young bankrupt decides that he cannot de- 
mean himself so much, and therefore will push down 
into North Carolina, and teach a writing-school, being 



FAILURE AND RETREAT. 95 

gifted in penmanship. Warrenton is tlie place chosen ; 
and thus Mr. Alcott, in a letter to his brother Chat- 
field, dated April 13, 1822, relates in prose how he 
came to be there : — 

Dear Brothek, — I can imagine your surprise when you 
read this letter at finding me here, engaged in teaching pen- 
manship, — a very fair writing-school of a dozen scholars, 
with the prospect of more : but such is the fact. At Sur- 
rey Court House I met Mr. Allyn's brother; and from there 
we went to Norfolk, leaving our effects at Smithfield. On 
reaching Norfolk and calling upon Mr. Allyn, he gravely 
intimated that I was "above my business" (and I agreed 
with him), and must give him a bill of sale of my effects 
then at Smithfield, in part-payment of my indebtedness for 
goods taken last season, and for which he has my note, with 
our father's indorsement. Those were the best terms I 
could make with him. Remaining in Norfolk a few days, 
I returned to Smithfield for my books and clothing; then 
took the stage for Petersburg, reaching there after my 



96 A^EW CONNECTICUT. 

day's ride. Next morning I took the Southern stage and 
reached this place, 185 miles from Richmond. I am at the 
public hotel. This is a pleasant town on the great South- 
ern road through the State of North Carolina. 

In verse this adventure runs thus : — 

On to the highlands then ! and far remote, 
Where rumor breathes not, let him come who will ! 
The quondam pedler there, in costly coat, 
Shall show his art, wielding the feathered quill. 

The stage is ready ; quick he steps inside, 
Knight of the goose-quill, not of tape and tin ; 
Southward he rides all day, with proper pride. 
And 'lights, genteel, at Warrenton's best inn, — 

Resort of gentle folk from far and near. 
The jockeys' chariot by the door-step whirls, 
While on the Seminary lawn appear, 
Dancing around the May-pole, merry girls. 



FAILURE AND RETREAT. 97 

Costume now serves : the brightly polished boot, 
The sleek white hat, the wearer's vernal bloom. 
Watch-seal and ribbon, and becoming suit 
Give the distinguished stranger the best room. 

Proposals soon come forth, in fairest script, — 
The .new Professor will on pupils wait ; 
Strokes of his careful pen, in standish dipt, 
The clerk declares " beat even copperplate." 

The judge, the parson, would be dashing scribes. 
And pledge their names ; the flattering clerk himself 
Thinks praises easy and convenient bribes 
To gain his lesson, without loss of pelf. 

The landlord and fair lady ride away 
To the spring races in their chariot fine, 
Drawn by white steeds, caparisoned so gay, 
And tavern business to the clerk resign. 

But the writing-school does not draw pupils enough to 
pay the master's board at the costly inn, where he has 



98 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

leisure to read Moore's " Melodies " and Goldsmith's 
comedies and tales. He therefore determines to depart 
at night, leaving his watch and cloak behind to pay his 
tavern bill. 

The sunset's blaze forsakes the window-panes ; 
Then from his low apartment, with his pack, 
Steals he along the streets and winding lanes, 
Wandering all night, far from the beaten track, 

Like fleeing slave pursued by dismal fears. 
Who hopes and dreads the light of coming day, 
As by the friendly star he northward steers, 
Nor stops till, safe, he walks the public way; 

E'en so our fugitive travels in his flight 
Each unfrequented, each remotest road, 
Till the great thoroughfare comes full in sight ; 
And pausing there, he lays aside his load. 



FAILURE AND RETREAT. 99 

By cornfields green, acres of waving wheat, 
Ripe for the sickle and the threshing-floor. 
Midst forests sheltering many a planter's seat, 
His hasty steps avoid each open door. 

For sleep and meals he can but moments spare, 
Until he reach Virginia's Northern Necks, 
And join again his brother trading there, — 
Near Rosewell House, in sandy Middlesex. 

Rosewell ! fair pride of the colonial age. 

Then in its grandeur, when its lord had sway, 

The friend of Jefferson, baronial Page ; 

Thou 'rt now the mouldering monument of that day. 

The ruins of former magnificence suited well the mood 
of the forlorn traveller, who had lost his chance and fallen 
into debt. These are his reflections as he hurries onward 
through Maryland and Pennsylvania with diminishing 
stock of money : — 



lOO NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" Gay knight of goose-quill, flourishing of late, 
From sudden pounce of Pinchfist newly flown, 
Absconding now, needy and profligate, — 
Poor footsore pilgrim, penniless and lone, 

"Wouldst thou ride Fancy o'er her giddy ground ? 
Fancy — cool-headed judgment's constant foe — 
A skittish hippogriff is always found, 
And her rash rider she will surely throw." 

On foot he seeks Penn's city ; o'er him dark 
The threatening clouds impend, and thunders roll, 
As when bold Franklin caught the crinkling spark ; 
Hies on, and at the ferry pays his toll. 

He embarks at Perth Amboy for New York, and spends 
almost his last dollar for his fare, which the captain hands 
back to him upon seeing his tattered condition and grace- 
ful bearing. He throws away his worn-out boots, and at 
New York suppHes himself with shoes, sails for Nor- 



FAILURE AND RETREAT. lOl 

walk with a Yankee skipper, and plods homeward to 
Wolcott on foot. 

There on the summit of his native hill, 
Dreaming no more of fortunes won by chance, 
Adventurous Fancy cannot dupe him still 
With glittering vagaries of romance. 

In the same year, 1822, he is persuaded to try his 
fortune once more at the South, and spends December, 
January, February, and the spring months of 1823 among 
his old friends the Quakers of North Carolina. But 
worldly success fails to attend him, though he gains in 
spiritual life ; he falls sick again with fever and ague, 
and reaches Wolcott early in July, 1823, "sallow and 
spiritless," and weighed down with debt. His disease 
is not fairly mastered until 1825, when he enters upon a 
new and congenial life at Cheshire, with his uncle, Dr. 
Bronson. The period of the Sonnets begins in 1827. 



NOTES. 



Note i, page 7. 

The town of Wolcott was formed from territory taken from 
the ancient towns of Farmington and Waterbury, Conn. The 
part taken from Waterbury, in which are Spindle Hill and New 
Connecticut, was called Farmingbury Parish previous to the incor- 
poration of the township in 1796. It was named Wolcott from the 
second Governor of Connecticut, of that name. As a summer 
retreat it has attractions and facilities for health and recreation 
hardly surpassed by any spot in Western Connecticut. The highest 
of the high lands in that section, its commanding views of a wide 
range of country, salubrious air, pure water, wild woodland drives, 
simple, well-disposed people, — these entitle it to a far wider knowl- 
edge on the part of the community than it has obtained. 

I know of no more primitive people in the State than the present 
occupants of these old Wolcott homesteads, — few finer studies for 
the novelist, the artist's pencil. The scenery is bold and pictur- 
esque. Seen from the summit of New Connecticut, the view com- 
mands many townships sleeping in the distance, — Torrington on 



I04 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

tlie north, Plymouth and Northfield on the northwest, on the west 
Litchfield and Morris and Watertown ; Middlebury on the south- 
west ; overlooking Waterbury on the south lies Prospect, Mount 
Carmel, and Hamden on the southeast ; Meriden Hills east of 
Wolcott Hill, overlooking Southington. The line of Hancock's 
Brook is seen along the valley west, its sides clothed with ivies, 
hemlocks, and birches; woodlands in all directions interspersed, 
fringing the cultivated fields and pastures, giving charming touches 
to the picture. The manners and dialect of the early settlers still 
linger on those highlands ; the pursuits are the same. It is the 
pride and boast of the farmers that their oxen and steers excel in 
stature and strength, and their militaiy company is the tallest and 
the best equipped and disciplined in the regiment, at the annual 
Field Days ; their Drum Band is still famous, and sought on all 
public occasions far and near. 

Note 2, page 10. 

The name is spelled Alcocke in English history By authority 
of the king, about 16 1 6, a coat of arms was granted to Thomas 
Alcocke of Silbertosf in the county of Leicester. The device is 
three cocks, emblematic of watchfulness. The motto is ' * Vigilate." 
The first of the name appearing in English history is John Alcocke, 
born in Beverly in the county of Yorkshire. Thomas Fuller gives 
the following account of him in his Worthies of England : — 

**He was bred a Doctor of Divinity at Cambridge, and at last 
became Bishop of Ely. His prudence appeared in that he was pre- 



NOTES. 105 

ferred Lord Chancellor of England by King Henry VII., a prince 
of an excellent palate to taste men's abilities, and a dunce was no 
dish for his diet. His piety is praised by the pen of Bishop Bale, 
which (though occasionally bitter) drops nothing but honey on 
Alcocke's memory, commending him for a mortified man, ' given to 
learning and piety from childhood, growing from grace to grace, 
so that, in his age, were none in England higher for holiness.' He 
turned the old Nunnery of St. Radigund into a new college called 
Jesus, in Cambridge, Surely had Malcolm, King of Scots, first 
founder of this Nunnery, lived to see this alteration, it would have 
rejoiced him in heart to behold lewdness and laziness turned out, 
for industry and piety to be put in their place. Alcocke died Octo- 
ber I, 1500, and had saintship gone as much by merit as favor, he 
deserved one as well as his namesake, St. John, his predecessor in 
that ^ee.'' — Fuller s Worthies, Vol. II. p. 521. 

Warton, in his History of English Poetry, says that Barclay's 
Eclogues were the first that appeared in our language, being written 
about 1 5 14. And he quotes from them Barclay's praise of Bishop 
Alcocke. He was an author and translator of some celebrity in his 
time, as well as architect and statesman. 

*' Nothing cheers the heart of kindred more 
Than the ancestor's fair glory gone before." 

Note 3, page 10. 
Thomas and George Alcocke were the first of the name among the 
settlers in New England. Thomas first settled in Boston, afterwards 



lo6 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

at Dedham ; John in Roxbury. Of the latter, Rev. John Eliot (the 
apostle) says in his Church Records : — 

" Mr. George Alcocke came out in the first company in 1630. 
He left his only son in England, his wife dying soon after he came to 
this land. When the people of Rocksborough joined to the church 
at Dorchester until such time as God should give them to be a 
church among themselves, he was by the church chosen express to 
be a deakon ; after, to regard the brethren at Rocksborough. And 
after he adjoined himself to this church at Rocksborough he was 
advanced to deakon of this church. He made two voyages to 
England upon just calling thereto, wherein he had much experience 
of God's providence and blessing. He brought over his son John 
Alcocke. He also brought over a wife, by whom he had his second 

son, Samuel, born in the year . He lived in a good and godly 

sort, and dyed in the end of the tenth month, Anno 1640, the poor of 
his church much lamenting his loss." 

Governor Dudley, in his letter to the Countess of Lincoln, speaks of 
the death of his first wife, "Mrs. Alcocke, a sister of Mr. Hooker," 
dying at Charlestown. He was a deputy to the General Court from 
Roxbury for the years 1634, '35, '36, and '37. 

His son John graduated at Harvard College in 1646. Governor 
Winthrop, writing from " Boston 16 : 6 : '46, to his son, Mr. John 
Winthrop, Jr., at Pequoit " (New London, Conn.), says : — 

* ' There were three hopeful young men commenced Masters of 
Arts the last commencement. One is a schoolmaster at Hartford, 
the other at Concord." The schoolmaster at Hartford is presumed to 



NOTES. 107 

have been John Alcocke, drawn thither by his uncle, Rev. Thomas 
Hooker. The other, at Concord, may have been Mr. Nathaniel 
White. 

Mr. John Alcocke was afterwards a physician, and resident at Rox- 
bury. He appears to have been an active person in the affairs of the 
colony. Hudson, in his Memorials of the Mosses, says : — 

" Dr. Alcocke belonged to the nobility of the colony. As was then 
their custom, he improved a farm at Marlborough as a kind of 
manor. He is presumed to have built the splendid house, for 
those days, which stood for one hundred and fifty years on the 
spot now occupied by Stephen Moss, Esq., and which, defended 
by a neighboring garrison, escaped the torch of the enemy often 
seen skulking about during the second and third Indian wars. 
Hither himself and family resorted occasionally, as is believed, until 
his wife and daughters had contracted such an attachment that the 
Doctor, in 1666, left the farm of 1,000 acres at his death, with the 
stock and utensils, to Anna, Sarah, and Mary, who, in 1670, were 
the wives of John Williams of Boston, Zachariah Whitman of 
Hull, and Joshua Lamb of Boston." 

This farm, it appears, was granted to Dr. Alcocke by the Honor- 
able General Court of Massachusetts "in consideration of many long 
services discharged for the country, as also of other services." 

A granddaughter of his, Sarah, the daughter of Rev. Samuel 
Whitman, of Farmington, Conn, (son of Zachariah), married Rev. 
John Trumbull, of Watertown, Conn,, and was the mother of 
John Trumbull, the author of the Revolutionary satire entitled 



lo8 NEW CONNECTICUT, 

"McFingal," — *'a burlesque poem directed against the enemies 
of American liberty, and holding up to scorn and contempt the 
Tories and British officers, naval, military, and civil, in America." It 
was very popular at the time of its publication, — 1 775-1 782. 

Mr. Thomas Alcocke came in Winthrop's fleet with his brother 
George. He was one of the original signers of the Covenant of the 
First Church at Boston, dated at Charlestown, August 27, 1630, his 
name standing the forty-fifth in the list of members. In the Church 
Records, dated "8:7: 1639, our brother Thomas Alcocke and Sister 
Margery are recommended to the church at Dedham." He was one 
of the original planters of that town. 

His widow, Margery, married, November 16, 1659, John Benham, 
of New Haven. Letters from Rev. John Davenport, of New Haven, 
to John Winthrop, Jr., give some account of Mr, Benham's journey 
homeward with his wife, and of her decease : — 

" New Haven, 13 12 : 1659. 
Honored Sir, — I received yours by brother Benham, whom 
God preserved from being drowned on his journey homeward. The 
river by Mr. Yale's farm was swollen high ; his wife was fearful of 
riding through it. God provided an helpe for her at the instant, 
by a passenger who travelled from Windsor to Branford to Mr. 
Crane's, whose daughter he had married. He helped sister Benham 
over a tree. But her husband adventuring to ride through, a foote 
of his horse slipped, so he fell into the water, and his horse, as he 
thinketh, fell upon him, for he had a blow on his head. But, in the 



NOTES. 109 

mercy of God, is now well. . . . Capt. Hawthorne is now in New 
Haven from the Baye." 

" New Haven, ye 20th of ye sth, 1660. 
" . . . . Brother Benham, indeed (whose good and sweete spirited 
wife the Lord hath taken from him since his return, and a young childe 
of one of his sons, is since died in his house, where also one of his 
wife lyeth very sick), he went to Hartford, but gave me no notice of 
it before that I might prepare a letter from home. Brother Myles, 
at his return from the Baye, comforted us with hope of your recover- 
ing strength, &c." — Davenport to Winthrop^ in Mass. Hist. Coll. 

Mary, daughter of Thomas and Margery, married, September 27, 
1664, James Robinson of Dorchester. Their son, Rev. John Robin- 
son of Duxbury, was the father of Faith, who married Jonathan 
Trumbull, first governor of Connecticut, and was the mother of a 
distinguished family. 

Philip, brother of Mary, married, December 5, 1672, Elizabeth, the 
daughter of the wife of Thomas Mitchell, one of the original planters 
of New Haven, and signer of the plantation covenant. He inherited 
Mitchell's homestead, situated on George Street. Atwater, in his 
History of New Haven Colony, says: "Quinnipiac had a larger 
number of wealthy men than any other of the New England colo- 
nies." And Mann, in his Annals of Dedham, says : "The found- 
ers of Dedham were a choice few among the number of those who 
fled from a religious persecution in their own land, and sought in 
this western clime a place of refuge, where they could worship their 



no NEW CONNECTICUT. 

God in a manner most congenial to their feelings, A large portion 
of them who came here were those who had been well educated in the 
old countr)% and some of them were noted in the annals of literature 
in the European world." 

Note 4, page 11. 
"John Alcock, son of John and grandson of Philip, was bom in 
New Haven, where his father resided at that time, January 14, 1705. 
He married Deborah, daughter of Isaac Blakeslee, of North Haven, 
on the twenty-fourth anniversary of his birth, and settled on Spindle 
Hill in the spring of 173 1, on a farm of one hundred and seventeen and 
a half acres of land, which he had purchased of Deacon Josiah Rogers 
of Branford. He continued to add to his landed estate until he was 
the possessor of about one thousand acres. He purchased more than 
twelve hundred acres, but had given some to his children previous to 
the later purchases. He gave to each of five or six children a farm 
of about one hundred acres in the immediate vicinity of his home, 
retaining his homestead for himself as long as he lived. He was a 
man of much energy and endurance, for without those qualities no 
man would or could have accomplished what he did in a wilderness 
country in the short space of forty-seven years. When he made his 
residence on this farm, coming up from Waterbury, he passed a little 
beyond the bounds of civilization into the territory of panthers, bears, 
wildcats, and immense forests. Here he built his log house, and 
introduced his bride of fifteen months, as queen of the realm, to the 
privation and severe toil which the circumstances must have imposed 



NOTES. Ill 

in following years. Before his strong arm the wilderness gave way, 
and in a few years neighbors were on every side. Prosperity was his 
lot until his acres numbered a thousand, and his sons and daughters 
a dozen, and his log house, being too frail, gave place to the more 
comfortable frame one. He was a man of public spirit, serving the 
town of Waterbury in different capacities, but especially as surveyor 
of lands and highways, the old records now showing his name con- 
nected with much work of this kind. His name is not prominent 
in the doings of the Ecclesiastical Society, for he was sixty-six 
years of age, and had performed a large amount of hard labor, and 
was veiy properly allowed to rest on the retired list of prominent 
men of the community. He lived to see his children comfortably 
settled near him, and some of them highly honored as pubUc citi- 
zens." (Both himself and wife were among the first members of 
the church. ) — Orcitti's History of Wolcott. 

Note 5, page 11. 

Captain John Alcock, oldest son of John, of Spindle Hill, married, 
August 28, 1755, Mary Chatfield, daughter of Solomon Chatfield, of 
Derby, Conn. She was the grandchild of Rev. Abraham Pierson, 
first President of Yale College from 1701 to 1707. 

Captain Alcock held his commission from his kinsman, Governor 
Trumbull, dated May 14, 1774, for the Winter Parish of Farming- 
bury trainband. Three of his sons served in the army of the 
Revolution, John, Jr., receiving a pension. He and his wife were 
members of the First Church in Farmingbury Winter Parish, their 



112 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

names being subscribed to the church covenant December i8, 

1773. 

At the time of his marriage the country was a wilderness along 
the Naugatuck to Derby Landing (fifteen miles distant from Spindle 
Hill), which was then a flourishing trading-place and fishery, situated 
at the junction of the Naugatuck with the Housatonic. The road 
along the side of the former was a narrow pathway cut into the banks 
through a deep gorge, with steep precipices on both sides, clothed 
with hemlocks, and tall chestnuts crowning the summits. The road, 
built thus on the bank of the river, was called the Dug Road, and in 
places was overshadowed by hemlocks and ivy, darkening the scene 
and giving it a romantic interest. It was along this road, the only 
one at the time, that the pair, mounted in the saddle, rode through the 
defile across Buck's Hill, lying south of Spindle Hill, to the new 
mansion, just built near his father's, situated at the base of New 
Connecticut. There his grandson, Amos Bronson Alcott, was born, 
November 29, 1799. 

The name Alcocke has undergone the successive changes from the 
original, of Allcock, Alcock, Alcox, Allcott, Alcott, — the present 
name. 

Note 6, page 12. 

Flax was cultivated by the farmers as generally as were oats and 
rye. Pulling flax was an employment in which the women often 
took part with the men. The linen manufacture was an important 
thing in every household, the families being clothed throughout in 



NOTES. 113 

homespun, either of flax oi* wool. I may say that I wore no other 
than homespun till nearly grown, and used to hand the warping 
threads for the reed to my mother, weaving the web in her loom. 
My sisters were spinners, both of wool and flax, which were some- 
times carded by hand and prepared for spinning and weaving. The 
"rolls" were spun into threads, then run upon spools by the "quill 
wheel and blades," and thus made ready for the shuttle. When 
woven, the linens were spread on the grass for whitening, and were 
sprinkled at intervals on sunny days from the spouts of watering-pots. 
Dressing the flax, like threshing, was the winter's task, along with 
chopping and storing the year's supply of wood for fuel. 

After the carding-machine near the Great Falls was in operation, 
bolsters of wool were strapped to the saddles, and thus taken there 
to be carded into rolls. 

Atwater says : " New Haven had in its Yorkshire families special 
skill in the manufacture of cloth. This industry, so far at least 
as spinning is concerned, spread throughout the whole community. 
Every farmer raised flax, which his wife caused to be wrought into 
linen ; and wherever sheep were kept, wool was spun into yarn for 
the knitting-needles and the loom. A young woman who could spin 
between sunrise and sunset more than thirty knots of warp or forty 
of filling was in high estimation among sagacious neighbors having 
marriageable sons. The music of the spinning-wheel was frequently 
accompanied with singing." 

It is useless to sigh over the poetry of those lost times, now made 
prose in the whirl of factory spindles. 



114 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound ; 
All at her work the village maiden sings, 
Nor, while she turns her giddy wheel around. 
Revolves the sad vicissitude of things." 

Note 7, page 13. 
The first minister was the Rev. Alexander Gillet, who was suc- 
ceeded by the Rev. Israel Beard Woodward, a native of Watertown, 
Conn. He was much beloved by his people, and his sudden death 
in 1810 was much lamented. As was customary, the ministers in 
those days received pupils into their families to be prepared for col- 
lege. Mr. Woodward was a graduate of Yale, and a good scholar, 
who drew to his home pupils from different parts of the countr}^ 
Percival the poet, and a youth from Norfolk, Virginia, who became 
distinguished in his State (Wilham Maxwell), were students of his. 
The latter, in a poem entitled " Wolcott," laments the death of his 
preceptor, and draws a pleasing picture of his character, and the 
scenery and manners of his people. I quote some of its lines. 

''High on a mountain all unknown to fame, 
Though graced with Wolcott's venerable name. 
The village bloomed in her serene retreat. 
And smiled to see the clouds beneath her feet. 
Such scenes of old the saintly hermit sought, 
Retreat for penitence and pious thought, 
Where truth might love to breathe a parting sigh, 
And hope a shorter passage to the sky. 



NOTES. 115 

Mild were the virtues of the village train, 
The rural virgin and the faithful swain, 
Hid from the world, unconscious of its arts. 
While peace and innocence possessed their hearts. 
Virtue beheld them with approving eye, 
And Vice confessed her homage with a sigh. 

"There Woodward reigned the genius of the place, 
The friend and guardian of the simple race. 
And well the pastor led his little flock 
Through peaceful meadows to the gushing Rock ; 
Himself before, lest they should go astray, 
His only care to help them on their way, 
Fulfil his office, and approve his love 
To the great Shepherd of the fold above. 

" 'T was on a hill just rescued from the wood, 
The preacher's hospitable mansion stood. 
Where oft the taper with inviting ray 
Allured the stranger from his weary way. 
And oft the cheerful table spread its best 
To win the smile of some unbidden guest. 
Beside the fence bloomed many a graceful vine, 
The blushing rose and sweeter eglantine. 
Before the door the greensward, trim and gay, 
Enticed the lamb and little child to play. 



NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Spring set her flowers too beautiful to last, 
And winter nipped them with unwilling blast 

' Here let me pause upon the mountain's brow, 
( Where oft the l^Iuses listen to my vow, ) 
And view with eyes that fondly overflow 
The various beauties of the scene below : 
Towns, mountains, villages, in fair display, 
All softened by the sun's descending ray ; 
Thy steeple, Southington, that high in air 
Invites the rustic to the house of prayer ; 
And spread around it many a smiling plain, 
Waving with harvests of the golden grain ; 
The farmer's mansion, fair in modest pride. 
With barns of plenty rising at its side ; 
Bright running streams that shine between the hills, 
While fancy hears the music of their rills ; 
And, far retreating into fading blue, 
Old Carmel's mountain closing in the view. 

' Fair was the scene when Sunday's smiling day 
Called the good villagers to praise and pray ; 
When up the hill in order they repair, 
To join their pastor in the house of prayer. 
The proper matron in her russet best, 
Her little infant smiling at her breast, 



NOTES. 1 17 

The blooming maid (her eyes are raised above, 
Her bosom sighs, but not with earthly love), 
The swain, unconscious of his resting plough, 
And free to seek a nobler service now, 
Forget alike their labors and their sports ; 
They meet their Maker in his earthly courts. 
Away with earth ! I see the preacher rise ; 
And hark, he speaks! — a message from the skies. . 
No poor ambition, void of grace or sense, 
Betrays his tongue to gaudy eloquence ; 
He scorns the tricks of vain theatric art. 
That catch the eye but cannot reach the heart. 
Warm, but yet prudent in his tempered zeal, 
He feels himself, and makes his hearers feel. 
How sweet the accents of that silver tongue. 
That wins the old and fascinates the young ! 
The scoffer hears at last, and, undeceived. 
Wonders to find how much he had believed. 
E'en childi-en listen to the simple style, 
And half divine the doctrine by his smile." 

The meeting-house stood on the north side of the Green, facing 
the Green and the south. It stood on the line that divided the 
towns from which the parish was formed, — half in Waterbury and 
half in Farmington. It was a plain building without a steeple. The 
pews below were old-fashioned box or square pews, numbered on 



Il8 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

the doors, and the seating of the members was according to their 
age, the elderly nearest the pulpit. The pulpit stood on the north 
side, opposite the front door, with a double window in the rear 
above it, and there was a door in each end of the church, east and 
west. The aisles leading from these were swept and sanded. The 
pulpit was very high, as was the custom in those days, and beneath 
it, extending in front, were the seats for the deacons. The front 
galleries extended around three sides, with raised seats behind, and 
at the south end, between the stairways, were high seats for the 
young people who preferred them. When the house was raised, it 
is said that all the inhabitants of the parish could sit on the sills. 
The body of the house was painted white and the roof red. This 
ancient building was some years since destroyed by fire. A smaller 
one now stands on the spot. All Saints, the Episcopal Churcli, 
built in 1832, stands on the south side of the Green. 

Note 8, page 13. 
Mr. Joseph Chatfield, the son of Captain John Alcock, married, 
October 13, 1796, Anna, daughter of Ca]-)tain Amos Bronson, of 
Plymouth (formerly Northbury Parish in Waterbury). His home 
was near his father's on Spindle Hill. His farm, of near a hundred 
acres, included the summit of New Connecticut, the highest land in 
that part of the State. It contained suitable portions of ploughland, 
pasture, and woodland, and was watered by brooks having their 
sources within its borders, one flowing southward into Lily Brook, 
a tributary of Mad River, the other westward into Hancock's Brook. 



NOTES. 119 

The woodlands were choice possessions, and carefully preserved, 
the decaying trees being culled out for firewood. The northern 
summit of the hill was crowned with a stately growth of chestnuts, 
with oaks interspersed. This was left standing, improving the sym- 
metry of the grove. This wood still crowns the summit and shows 
to advantage from all points of view. It was in the edge, near the 
roadside running along the eastern slope, that a falling tree crushed 
the body of the woodman. 

The recent market for fuel in the factories on the Naugatuck has 
tempted the owners of wood-lots to supply the demand ; and Spin- 
dle Hill, instead of the busy hive of industry it was at the opening 
of this centuiy, fruitful in fields of grain and dotted with orchards, 
has now become almost one spacious forest, the wood being the 
most productive crop the owners can grow for the market. 

From the dwelling-house standing at the foot of the hill might be 
seen, southwards, Potucko's Ring, so called from an Indian chief 
who, having laid a ring of brushwood for catching game, and set it 
on fire, was himself caught within the enclosure and burnt. This 
tract of woodland was included within the territory purchased by 
John Alcock, the first settler on Spindle Hill, as were the mill-seats 
at the Great Falls on Mad River. 

Note 9, page 18. 
Captain Amos Bronson married Anna Blakeslee, of Plymouth, 
Conn. His home vv'as at Mount Jericho, on the Naugatuck, about 
four miles west of Spindle Hill. A venerable man, of strong 



I20 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

features and frank manners, as I remember him. He was a stanch 
Churchman, having embraced Episcopacy after his marriage, edu- 
cated his family in that faith, and was a leading man in es- 
tablishing the Episcopal Church at Plymouth. He named his 
eldest son Tillotson, after the distinguished English divine of that 
name. His second son, Noah Miles, was a man of strong mind, 
enterprising, and of a public spirit. He built the turnpike road 
along the banks of the Naugatuck to Salem Bridge in Water- 
bury, connecting there with the turnpike road to New Haven, 
and with the road to Derby Landing. The building of this road 
through its length was thought an undertaking of no ordinary kind 
in those days. It was not completed till 1802. Before this time, in 
passing from Jericho to Waterbury, after the Revolution, one was 
obliged to ford the stream five or six times, and remove from twenty- 
five to thirty sets of bars. It was through these fords and bars that 
the adventurous mother rode on her way to New Haven, twenty-five 
miles distant, and paid her son Tillotson's tuition bills. He fitted 
for college with Rev. Dr. Trumbull, of Watertown. He graduated 
at Yale in 1786. 

In an address delivered at Thomastovvn by Dr. Woodruff, at the 
celebration of the 4th of July, 1876, he gave a minute description of 
the manners, customs, and pursuits of the early settlers in that region. 
Thomastown, named Church Hollow at the time of its settlement, 
lies about two miles north of Mount Jericho, and about five miles 
north of Spindle Hill. It was to this church at the Hollow 
that Captain Bronson, with his family, used to ride and conduct 



NOTES. 121 

the services on Sundays in the manner described. He was a 
leading churchman and a prominent man in the affairs of the 
town. The sketch by Dr. Woodrufif follows : — 

" The first settlers of Northbury were self-reliant, a robust and 
hardy race, who worked and won a living from the rocky, rugged 
soil. Their first labor was to build log-cabins, which were hospi- 
table, if rude, and capable of accommodating all friends who might 
visit them. These cabins were built near springs or running water, 
the low lands being also valued for the forage they furnished the 
cattle. The agricultural was the central interest, and even the min- 
ister tilled the land allotted him to eke out his small salary with the 
rude and simple implements of labor. Exchanges of labor were in 
the products of the land, so many bushels of wheat, rye, or corn 
being equivalent to so many days' labor. The shoemaker and tailor 
made their annual tour through the families of the neighborhood, 
clothing and shoeing them while they received their support. Wool- 
len and linen were the staples for clothing, cotton and calico being 
too costly to be worn except on great occasions. These were pro- 
cured from their own flocks and hillsides, and were made into home- 
spun on the loom, which occupied one room of the house, with its 
rough-hewn, solid timbers, mingling its constant thwack with the 
milder notes of the spinning-wheel day after day, — the organ and 
piano of homespun. The cloth made was so thoroughly beaten up 
that it resisted the rigors of the Arctic winter, and almost defied the 
Indian an-ow and musket shot. The linen was spread in long pieces 
on the grass, and whitened by the constant application of water from 



12 2 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

a watering-pot in the hands of a buxom daughter of the household, 
who thus provided the Sunday hnen and her own wedding outfit. 
The living was simple and nutritious. The year's supply of meat 
was laid up in the cellar at the annual slaughter. Bread was made 
from buckwheat, lye, or com, which the land supplied ; and as 
wheat soon became an unprofitable crop, it was rarely used, and in 
Hmited quantities. From four to six barrels of wheat flour was the 
annual demand from a merchant in fair trade, those who purchased it 
being looked upon as living extravagantly and luxuriously. Cider 
was the beginning, the middle, and the ending of hospitality, 
most of the autumn being consumed in making it, and a large 
share of the winter in drinking it. Strong liquor was used on all 
occasions, and under the most shadowy excuses, — at weddings, 
funerals, ordinations, and raisings ; the largest items in the bills for 
such occasions being for what were called ' wet goods.' 

" Life was isolated outside of the principal towns a hundred years 
ago, the house and home of the average family being measurably 
shut in to itself, which required more completeness and indepen- 
dence about the home than now, and centred life about it and not in 
society, which made the simple home veiy picturesque. The frame 
houses which succeeded the log-cabin were built for use, and so sub- 
stantially that some of their large timbers were sound when a century 
old. The house was generally square, with a massive chimney in 
its centre. The interior of the house was panelled, not plastered, 
and the great oak beams crossed the ceiling in plain sight. A great 
open wood-fire blazed up the throat of the spacious chimney, for 



NOTES. 123 

stoves were unknown. The cooking was done in tin kitchens, or 
on turnspits, or in a long-handled frying-pan, or on hooks suspended 
from the swinging crane, or in the great oven. The floor was bare, 
save for a home-made rug or two of woollen rags. The tallow- 
dipped candle shed a dim light at evening. The kitchen was a tidy, 
cheery room, with a tall dresser and rows of plates and platters, and 
a rack of spoons. A skillet and warming-pan hung near the fire, 
and the one flatiron, teapot, and various other articles hung on pins 
or spikes driven into the chimney ; articles of clothing decorated the 
poles overhead ; the trusty queen's arm hanging from the side of a 
beam. Over all presided the mistress of the house, clad in short- 
gown and petticoat, with a cap-border half concealing her kindly 
face, the brightest memoiy of the family group. In the evening all 
gather around the big fireplace, the father and hired man talking 
of farm matters, while the mother mends the rents, and the children 
con the next day's lessons by the firelight. Neighbors drop in as 
the evening advances, and then nuts, apples, and the mug of cider 
are brought out, and the struggle of the colonies with the mother 
country is discussed in its different phases. Still later, the merry 
young folks drop in from their ride, and, as the tall clock in the 
corner ticks towards nine, the last Sabbath's sermon is discussed, and 
at nine the evening is closed with a prayer for divine guidance. 1 

"The American people were a religious people, and, while all 
sects had a foothold in the country, the Congregationalists predomi- 

1 " Half or two thirds of the inhabitants in New England sleep in the present 
time without locking or barring the doors." — Dr. Dwighfs Travels., 1821. 



124 ^^^ CONNECTICUT. 

nated in New England. Its patriot pulpit wielded a powerful 
influence in moulding the character which wrought out the success- 
ful result of the Revolution. It was the centre of intellectual influ- 
ence, moulding the soldier and statesman with its instruction. Living 
among farmers, remote from towns, where literature would naturally 
be neglected and corrupted, in advance of the schoolmaster and 
school, the minister was the college in embryo. He combated vice, 
and was the companion and guide to genius and virtue, and his 
presence and talents inspired the great men of the State. 

" The meeting-house was usually situated on a high hill, between 
two or three valleys ; plain and cubical in shape, with galleries 
inside, and surmounted by a tower or steeple. The pulpit was lofty, 
reserved, and imposing, over which hung an august wooden canopy, 
the sounding-board. Just in front of and beneath the pulpit was 
the deacons' seat, where those worthies reposed and received the 
more perpendicular droppings of the Word. The pews were square 
boxes, close-doored, high -walled, and railed around the top, where 
the people were impounded, half of them with their backs to the 
preacher. The seating of the meeting-house was a matter of much 
delicacy, and was done by a committee, who * dignifyed ' the seats. 
The only heat came from foot-stoves, filled at adjoining houses ; 
and, while the cold blasts of open ventilation chilled the people, 
they patiently listened to the minister as he preached in great-coat 
and mittens or gloves. The choir was ranged around the front seats 
of the gallery, with the pitch-pipe in the centre. The bass-viol was 
not then introduced, and the. organ was looked upon as a device of 



NOTES. 125 

the great adversary. The hymn was lined out by the deacon, and 
the hymn-book was only introduced after great opposition. 

" Besides the homespun clothing, a leather apron was a common 
article of apparel, and was sometimes seen in the meeting-house when 
new and clean. The young folks went to meeting barefoot, or carried 
their shoes and stockings in their hands, and slipped them on in some 
sly corner when almost there. The Sabba' day house suppHed the 
comfort lacking in the meeting-house. It was a family affair, usually 
comprising but a single room, perhaps fifteen feet square, with win- 
dows and a fireplace. It was plainly furnished with chairs for the 
old folks and benches for the children, with a table in the centre on 
which lay a Bible and a few religious books, while shelves at the 
side contained dishes for cooking and eating. Sometimes the house 
was mounted over a shed in which the horse was sheltered. A 
group of such cabins standing about the meeting-house added much 
to the picturesqueness of the spot, and added to the comfort of Sab- 
bath worship in winter. The family able to keep a Sabba' day 
house rode directly there Sabbath morning, and warmed themselves 
within and without, dispelling the frost of the church with another 
thaw at intermission, when they paid a wholesome regard to the 
wants of the inner man. 

" The schoolhouse was usually perched at the bleak angle of the 
cross-roads, with its outside littered with remnants of last year's 
wood, and policed by the neighbors' cattle and swine. Inside a row 
of desks surrounded the room, blotted with ink and marked with 
the jack-knife. The inner row of seats for the younger pupils was 



126 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

made from the smooth side of a slab erected on four stout legs set in 
auger-holes, and was so high that little folks could hardly touch 
their toes to the floor. Almost all one side of the room was taken 
up with the yawning fireplace, holding the best part of a cord of 
wood, but whose roaring flames made little impression on the more 
remote side of the apartment, which was well ventilated by innumer- 
able cracks and crannies. The teacher was a man of authority and 
admitted receptacle of all valuable knowledge ; he was revered 
accordingly, and his patient labors had no small share in the prog- 
ress of the people. His simple and primitive university graduated 
men who have filled the country \Adth glory and renown. 

" The fathers rode on horseback, with their wives and children on 
a pillion behind, the aged and feeble having the privilege of riding 
in the cart. The first wagon was as much a curiosity as the first 
locomotive at a later day ; it was made with wheels of equal diam- 
eter, and framed like a cart, and had no springs. Domestic indus- 
tries supplied amusements. The husking bee, the quilting bee, and 
the apple-paring brought the young people together, and a raising 
gave all the men in the neighborhood a half holiday. There were 
foot and horseback excursions after the haying, and the evening 
singing-school for the practice of sacred music. Marriages were 
commonly contracted at a much earlier period than now, the theory 
being that wives were not to help their husbands spend a living, but 
earn one. Children had a somewhat different place in the old 
social economy ; they did their share of domestic work ; found their 
recreation in sports of a very rude description ; looked up to instead 



NOTES. 127 

of down upon their parents, and stood in wholesome awe of domestic 
law and authority. A visit from the minister meant a dreaded cate- 
chetical exercise, and on the Sabbath their natural activities were 
sternly repressed. The exercise in the catechism on Saturday was 
the most dreaded and shirked by the children of any in the week. 
The Sabbath began at sundown Saturday, and was rigidly observed. 
All who could were expected to attend public worship ; and there 
was no strolling in the fields, and no riding or travelling, except of 
necessity. Their reading was the Bible, as books were few and 
religious newspapers had not been discovered. It is customary in 
some quarters to speak lightly of the fathers, but there is something 
magnificent in their stern, practical fidehty to their principles. What 
we are they have made us ; and when we have done better for the 
ages that come after us, we shall have a more certain right to blame 
their austerities." 

Note 10, page 21. 

Before Webster's school-books appeared, Dil worth's *' New Guide 
to the English Tongue," Fisher's "Instructor, or Young Man's 
Best Companion," with the New Testament, were the chief books 
used in the colonies. The first edition of Webster's spelling-book 
appeared in 1783. It was published at Hartford by Hudson and 
Goodwin. Many millions of copies of this book have been sold and 
used in schools, and it is still used in some portions of the United 
States as a school-book. 

" Noah Webster," says Duyckinck in his Cyclopaedia of American 



128 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Literature, "had tact in discerning the wants of the country in his 
day, and providing for them in his spelling-book. He simplified 
knowledge and made it easy of acquisition, arranging the words of 
his spelling-book in ready forms to catch the eye and linger in the 
memory, while he added brief lessons in definitions and geograph- 
ical and other terms, intermingling those homely and ready lessons 
of fables and proverbs, which were not at all blunted in their way to 
the conscience by woodcuts such as the art in the country then 
afforded. There have been few moral lessons productive of the 
same effect in the country as the famous old fable of the ' Boy that 
stole Apples,' and who sits, in the old woodcut, alarmingly exposed 
astride of a branch of a tree, almost naked of foliage, while the 
farmer, in small-clothes, one arm akimbo, the other in a most striking 
attitude, takes aim at the ' young sauce-box.' Many an honest fellow 
through the world has had his sense of duty painfully strengthened by 
the moral of that fable. Then there is that forsaken ' Country Maid 
and her Milkpail,' teaching the double lesson of the vanity of human 
expectations and the folly of unnecessary grief : that chickens are 
not to be counted before they are hatched, or milk to be wept over 
after it is spilt. The story, too, of the ' Boy that went to the Wood to 
look for Bird's-nests when he should have gone to School,' and the 
descriptions of a good boy and of a bad boy, not forgetting the won- 
derful table of ' Proverbs, Counsels, and Maxims,' all in words of 
one syllable, taxing the wisdom of nations and the strong old Saxon 
power of the English language ; all sound lessons, calculated to 
make honest men and ingenious Benjamin Franklins." 



NOTES. 129 



Note ii, page 23. 

/ Dr. William A. Alcott gave the following account of this school 
on Spindle Hill, in "The Annals of Education " for October and 
November, 183 1 : — 

"The schoolhouse stood near the centre of the district, at the 
junction of four roads. The spot was peculiarly exposed to the 
bleak winds of winter ; nor were there any shade trees near, to 
shelter the children from the scorching rays of the summer's sun 
during their recreations. 

"The size of the building was twenty-two feet long by twenty 
broad. From the floor to the ceiling it was seven feet. The chim- 
ney and entry took up about four feet at one end, leaving the school- 
room itself twenty feet by eighteen. Around three sides of the room 
were connected desks, arranged so that when the pupils were sitting 
at them their faces were towards tlie instructor and their backs 
towards the wall. Attached to the sides of the desks nearest to the 
instructor were benches for small pupils. The instructor's desk and 
chair occupied the centre. On this desk was stationed a rod or 
ferule ; sometimes both. These, with books, writings, inkstands, 
rules, and plummets, witli a fire-shovel and a pair of tongs, were 
the principal furniture. 

" The windows were five in number, of twelve panes each. The 
entry was four feet square. A depression in the chimney on one 
side of the entry furnished a place of deposit for the hats and spare 



130 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

clothes of the boys. The girls generally carried their bonnets, etc. , 
into the schoolroom. The ceiling and walls were plastered. The 
room was warmed by a large and deep fireplace. In severe weather 
it was estimated that the amount usually consumed was not far 
from a cord of wood a week. The wood was left in the road 
near the house, so that it was often buried in the snow or wet 
with the rain. At the best it was always burnt green. The 
ventilation of the schoolroom was as much neglected as its tem- 
perature ; and its cleanliness more than either. In summer the 
floor was washed once in two or three weeks. 

" The winter school usually opened about the first of Decem- 
ber, and continued from twelve to sixteen vceeks. The summer 
school commenced about the first of May. Men were uniformly 
employed in winter and women in summer. A strong prejudice 
existed against employing the same instructor more than once or 
twice in the same district. 

"Good moral character and a thorough knowledge of the com- 
mon branches were considered as indispensable qualifications in an 
instructor. They were chiefly selected from the most respectable 
families in town. In general, the candidate was some favorite or 
relative of the district committee, and the moral character of almost 
every instructor was unexceptionable. 

" Instructors usually boarded in the families of the pupils. Their 
compensation varied from seven to eleven dollars a month for 
men, and from sixty-two and a half cents to one dollar a week 
for women. 



NOTES. 131 

** Two of the board of visitors usually visited the winter schools 
twice during the term. In the summer their visits were often omit- 
ted. These visits usually occupied from one hour to an hour and 
a half. They were spent in hearing a few hurried lessons, and in 
making some remarks, general in their character. Writing and 
spelling were leading studies every day, and on Saturday the Old 
Assembly Catechism, in the Congregational order and the Episco- 
pal order, were regularly repeated. Webster's Spelling-Book, the 
American Preceptor, and the New Testament were the principal 
books used. Arithmetic was taught by a few instructors one or 
two evenings in a week. 

" In teaching the alphabet it was customary for the instructor to 
take his seat, and point to the letters precisely in the order in which 
they are placed in the book, A, B, C, &c. If the pupil could name 
the letter immediately, it was well ; if not, he was told it. After 
going through from A to Z, the double letters were also taught. 
Sometimes the process was inverted ; beginning at the bottom, and 
ending at A. 

*' To teach spelling, a lesson was assigned, consisting of a certain 
number of columns of words arranged in alphabetical order, as the 
words of our spelling-books usually are, which the pupil was 
requested to study over and over, until he could recollect and spell 
them from memory. In this manner one word suggested, by asso- 
ciation, the next ; the second, the third ; and so on. No faculty 
was called into exercise but the memory. If a word was mis- 
spelled, the next pupil who could spell it was allowed to take his 



132 NEIV CONNECTICUT. 

place, or *go above him,' as it was called. He who was at the 
head of the class at evening had a credit mark, and sometimes a 
written certificate of good scholarship. 

"In teaching reading, the process was equally mechanical. The 
instructor generally read the first verse or paragraph, and sometimes 
read with them in his turn. The instructor, or the pupil at the 
head, made the corrections. These extended no farther than the 
right pronunciation of the words, and a measured attention to 
the pauses. ' Read as you talk,' was a rule seldom given^ and still 
less frequently reduced to practice. It was customary to read the 
Testament and Preceptor (the principal reading-books), generally in 
course. There were, however, certain days of the week on which 
selected pieces were read. These consisted of an oration, and per- 
haps a dialogue, with some of the more difficult poetry. When 
visitors called, they were commonly required to read these selections, 
which they had learned almost by heart. 

"New beginners in writing usually had a copy of straight marks. 
Over the top of the next page the master wroie Avoid alluring com- 
pany, in large hand, which the pupil was required to imitate. A 
page a day, that is, one eighth of a common sheet of foolscap paper, 
was their task in writing. The pupils' copies were usually in alpha- 
betical order, and, during the first year, almost wholly of coarse 
hand, ruled (for all were required to rule) from one fourth to half an 
inch wide. Engraved copy-slips, instead of written ones, were some- 
times used. 

"When Arithmetic was taught in the evenings, the instructor 



NOTES. 13^ 

usually wrote sums for the pupil on a slate, which he was required 
to work. Daboll's Arithmetics were used as guides. 

*' The order of exercises for a day was usually as follows : From 
nine o'clock a. m. to fifteen minutes past nine, the instructor came 
to the door with a large ferule, and struck several times on the 
doorpost as a signal for opening the school. Such pupils as were 
present came in, and either took their seats or crowded around the 
fire. Those of the first class who were present read in the Testa- 
ment. The lesson consisted of from two to four chapters, according 
to their length. The time usually allotted to this exercise was from 
twenty to thirty minutes, or until most of the pupils had arrived. 

** When this exercise closed, writing was attended to. In the win- 
ter copies and pens were to be prepared, ink to be thawed and 
watered, and numbers wished to go to the fire at once. In the 
midst of all this the second class usually took their Testament for 
reading. While the second and third classes were reading, the 
instructor usually finished copies and pens, and assigned the spelling 
lessons for the forenoon. Then the smaller classes were to be 
taught. Those who were able read a few sentences of some of the 
easy lessons in the spelling-book, while others merely read over the 
words of the spelling lesson. 

"At about half past ten the welcome sound ' You may go out,' 
was heard. Every one made his long * obeisance,' and was imme- 
diately in the street ; but in from five to ten minutes the loud rap 
brought them to the place of obeisance, and ultimately to their seats 
again . The two sexes went out separately. 



134 A'^W^ CONNECTICUT. 

"The rest of the forenoon was spent chiefly in spelling. The 
school closed at twelve o'clock. At the usual signal, * School 's 
dismissed,' a scene of confusion commenced. But at all other 
times they usually went out in good order. 

" There was a large pond about a quarter of a mile from the school- 
house. In the winter this was the favorite resort of the boys. Time 
passed so swiftly that they were often too late at the school, and 
were reprimanded, sometimes feruled or flogged. The rap on the 
door summoned them at one. The American Preceptor was then 
read for nearly half an hour by the first class, and about a quarter 
of an hour by the second. Writing went on again, simultaneously 
with the reading of the second and smaller classes. 

" When the course of lessons was finished, a short recess was 
allowed, as in the forenoon. On coming in from recess or inter- 
mission, it was customary to have a pail of water and cup stand by 
the door. It was rarely ' handed around,' but every one helped him- 
self. On coming in from the afternoon recess, the classes were all 
exercised in their spelling lessons again, beginning with the young- 
est. After spelling, the pauses, abbreviations, numeral letters, &c., 
were recited. In addition to these, the instructor usually had a 
set of written questions, embracing the time when many remarkable 
events happened, the various currencies, tables of distance, weight, 
measure, &c. The first class, and sometimes the second, were 
required to answer these daily until they were perfectly familiar. 
The older classes were required to commit the Introduction to the 
Spelling-Book to memory. 



NOTES. 135 

" A table of words spelled differently, but pronounced alike, was 
usually a favorite table with most instructors. It consisted of four 
pages of the Spelling-Book. It was usually studied until many of 
the pupils could repeat it from beginning to end. But I never knew 
any teacher require his pupils to apply it. 

" The exercises of the day were usually closed by calling the roll or 
catalogue of pupils, by announcing the name of the scholar whose 
turn it was to make the fire next morning ; and by giving positive 
orders for every pupil to " go straight home, and be civil to every- 
body he might meet with." Once a week the writers were required 
to write each a line for examination. They were then numbered 
according to their excellence. He whose line was No. i was allowed 
to have the first choice among the seats ; No. 2 the second, and so 
on. About once a week they were also allowed to choose sides for 
spelling, which usually took up about half of the afternoon. The 
side or party who misspelled the smallest number of words was 
declared to have beat ; and they usually manifested much triumph. 

** Dialogues, too, were sometimes committed to memory, and 
repeated. 

" This school was equal, if not superior, to the average of the 
schools in that part of the country. 

" In 1 801, the people paid at least one half of the compensation of 
the instructor, by a tax upon themselves proportioned to the number 
of pupils furnished by each. But for the last ten years the public 
fund has paid about nine tenths of the expense." \ 



136 



NEW CONNECTICUT. 



Note 12, page 24. 
THE WOLCOTT DIALECT. 



Afore. 

All-fired. 

Amost, e'en-a-most. 

Aant. 

Ary, nary. 

Astware, for as it were. 

Ax, for ask. 

Baint, for be not. 

Bile, for boil. 

Bime-by. 

Blazes, like blazes. 

Bobbery, kick up a bobbery. 

Bran new. 

Bunk. 

Bunt. 

Buss. 

Calkerlate. 

Chap. 

Chaw. 

Chirk. 

Chock-full. 

Chore. 



Clever, for kindly. 

Clost, for close. 

Clout. 

Codger. 

Courtin. 

Cowlick. 

Cross-patch. 

Cud, for quid. 

Cuss. 

Cute. 

Cut out. 

Daater, for daughter. 

Daddy. 

Darnd, dam it. 

Desput, for desperate. 

Dreffle, for dreadful. 

Drought. 

Drownded. 

Expect, ^^ suspect. 

Fire, to fire a stone. 

Fix it. 

Flop. 



iVOTES. 



m 



Folks. 

Foxed boots. 

Froe, a tool for rending timber. 

Full chisel, go fast or swift. 

Furder, for further. 

Fust-rate. 

Gab. 

Gal, gal- boy. 

Gallowses, j^r suspenders. 

Gambrel. 

Give the mitten. 

Gownd, for gown. 

Guess. 

Gump, a silly fellow. 

Haint. 

Heft. 

Hern, hisen. 

Yie\.,for heated. 

Hoity-toity. 

Hook, on one's own account. 

Housen. 

Hove. 

Hum, for home. 

Humly, a humly fellow. 

Hunk. 

Jaw, hold your jaw. 



Jerk. 

Keel over, turn a somersault. 

Keep company with. 

Kind'er, for likeness. 

Kiver, y2?r cover. 

Laze about. 

Leanter, lanky. 

Likely, a likely fellow. 

Links, sausages. 

Lit. 

Logy. 

Lope, laze about. 

Mammy, /^r mamma. 

Medder, for meadow. 

Meechen, downcast. 

Mile, for miles. 

Miss, for Mrs. 

Nimshi, a foolish fellow. 

No odds. 

Not by a jug full. 

Notions, chores. 

Nohow. 

Nowheres. 

Nubbins. 

Nurly. 

Oilers, y^r always. 



^ss 



NEW CONNECTICUT. 



On'y, for only. 

Ought ter. 

Ourn,y^r ours. 

Pappa, for papa. 

Partly opposite. 

Perk up. 

Pimping. 

Plaguy. 

Pokerish. 

Polt, a blow on the head. 

Proxing. 

Pung. 

Puttering about. 

Puzzle. 

Quilting match. 

Rave, if angered. 

Raound,y^r round. 

Reckon. 

Right away, soon. 

Rile, for roil. 

Rowen. 

Rugged, hardy, robust. 

Sabba' day. 

Sag. 

Samp. 

Saphead. 



Sartin. 

Sass, for garden vegetables. 
Saaser, for saucer. 
Scraunch. 
Scrimp. 
Set by, prized. 
Shack, a ragged beggar. 
Shet, for shut. 
' Slick, for sleek. 
Slobber. 
Slosh. 
Slump. 
Snicker. 

Snore, I snore, I swow, I vum. 
Sozzle. 
Spry. 
Sqush. 

S>\.\xx\,for stone. 
Tag. 

Taint, for it is not. 
Taters. 

Teeter, see-saw. 
Telled, for told. 
Tend, for attend. 
That zxe,for a particular thing. 
To get round one. 



NOTES. T39 

ToIable,/c7r tolerable. Whaling, for a beating. 

To rights, immediately. Whop, whop over. 

Towzle. Yander, for yonder. 

Truck, trade. Yank. 

Tussle. Yerk. 

Wabble. Yourn, for yours. 

Note 13, page 25. 
At this total eclipse of 1806, the line of total darkness passed 
through Massachusetts and Connecticut, and the centre of darkness 
passed across Litchfield, lying in sight over the hills west of the 
Naugatuck. The day was clear and bright till the darkness came 
on. Smoked glass was used by thousands of eyes as the dark 
shadow of the moon began to cross over the sun's disk. When 
only a crescent form was to be seen, the reflection of this was cast 
upon the leaves of the trees. As the sun became more and more 
obscured, the crescent became thinner and thinner, until it was a mere 
thread of light in the shadow of the leaves. Suddenly it faded en- 
tirely away, and the sun was extinguished in its meridian path. 
There it hung in the sky, a round funereal patch, rayless and cold. 
The dews descended as if it were evening twilight ; the fowls 
sought their roosts ; the cattle turned their eyes wonderingly to the 
expiring luminary \ the air was dense and compressed ; the smoke 
rushed down the chimney flues ; the darkness was like that of even- 
ing twilight. In the afternoon the wind had risen boisterously, and 
the weather was cold. It was followed by violent hail-storms in all 



I40 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

parts of New England. This was the greatest eclipse that had hap- 
pened in New England for a hundred years. It began at 10.5 a. m. ; 
middle at 11.23 ■^« M. ; whole duration, two hours and forty-six 
minutes. 

Note 14, page 27. 

Training-day was a great occasion. Every boy looked forward to 
its coming with longing eyes. He then appeared in his best attire, 
with spending-money in his pocket, wending his way at an early 
hour to the Hill. There the military companies were already on 
parade, dressed in regimentals (in blue coats with red facings, the 
skirts doubled to a point, with their muskets scoured to a glittering 
brightness), their cartridge-box strapped over their shoulders with 
the bayonet ; the hat with a feather red-tipped, and a plate in front 
lettered with the name of the company, its number, and that of the 
regiment to which it belonged. The officers were dressed in blue 
and red, with cocked hats and lofty plumes of yellow and red ; the 
fifers and drummers in red coats and plumes, the colors flying above 
them. The drill, with marchings and filings to and fro around the 
Green, was followed by a dinner at the tavern. The pedlers' carts 
were irresistible temptations ; for a penny a roll of gingerbread was 
to be had ; a card of ten rolls for fourpence-halfpenny. Sweet cider 
was plenty in September ; raisins, always. In the evening a dance 
came off at the ball-room, with plenty of sling to stimulate the mer- 
riment. The girls were not less curious than the boys, and sure to 
be at hand for the evening's frolic. Young men were enrolled at 



NOTES. 141 

the age of eighteen. They were fined for non-appearance, and if 
not equipped according to law. 

Disinclined as I was to handle fire-arms, my drill was not of the 
bravest bearing. The highest honor intended from my companions 
in arms was to be chosen a corporal, when I addressed them from 
the front, *' Gentlemen Officers and Fellow-Soldiers," on declining 
the honor. 

At the Centenary of the Congregational Church and Society of 
Wolcott, held in September, 1873, Editor Cooke, of the " Water- 
bury American," gave an account of a general training or field day 
at Wolcott, which he attended when a youngster : — 

" The first time we ever saw Wolcott was at a general training 
held there about 1803. The regiment at that time was commanded 
by Colonel Streat Richards, who, by virtue of his office, ordered the 
regiment to parade" at Wolcott, — the only time that Wolcott was 
honored by this distinction. The Colonel was then in his prime and 
glory. He was a man of v^dt, of strong impulses, of a gay dis- 
position, having that pride and ambition which constitute the essen- 
tials of a military officer, but not averse to ' fuss and feathers ' when 
an opportunity offered for display. When well mounted upon his 
charger, clad in the old colonial costume, or Revolutionary uniform, 
with well-powdered wig, ruffles at his wrists, high-topped boots, three- 
cornered plumed hat, a la mode the old regime of the Baron Steuben 
school, he formed an imposing feature of the olden time. The Colonel 
felt his station, and casually observed to a brother officer that ' on 
Sunday the Lord commanded ; but to-day, being Monday, was his 



142 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

day, — He was in command ; ' and the troops found it out during the 
day. Waterbury being so near, the boys from eight to fifteen were 
bound to attend ; and, as conveyances were scarce at that time, they 
organized a company and resolved to foot it over the hills to the 
town centre. Starting from home an hour or two before day, they 
arrived there just as the sun gilded the eastern horizon, in time to see 
the out-of-town companies enter the village, headed by martial music, 
their colors flying. They were conducted by the adjutant to the 
station for inspection. This occupied the forenoon till dinner-time, 
which was taken under the shade trees on the Green, — the boys par- 
ticipating in a shilling cut ; after which the regiment took up the line 
of march to an open field about a mile east of the Centre, where the 
parade and review took place with all the pomp and circumstance 
of the old-time general training. Wolcott bore off the palm, as she 
always did, by her soldier-like bearing, neat and tidy uniforms, and 
her splendid military band, — the nucleus of the celebrated brass 
band still existing in spirit to the present time. The day was un- 
usually fine, the display grand and without accident, an honor to 
the town and its intelligent people, — the only drawback being for 
those spectators condemned to foot their return after the fatigues 
of the day." 

Note 15, page 28. 

The mills at the Great Falls were the resort of the inhabitants 
generally. Here were the grist and saw mills, the clothiers' works, 
and, at the pond just below, the carding-machine. The spot was 



NOTES. 143 

picturesque. Above, in the rocks, at some distant time, the water 
had worn a circular cup, named Benson's Pot. The whole stream 
poured down the precipice, turning the prodigious overshot wheel 
which drove the gearings of the millstones within and the clothing 
works below. The grist-mill, built against the ledge, was entered by 
descending stairs into the upper story, thence by another flight into the 
dusty apartment where the millstone whirled. The slowly revolving 
cylinder bolted the grist by means of an ascending and descending 
belt, with pockets revolving and emptying themselves into the long 
trough underneath, to be shovelled thence into sacks suspended by 
hooks at the apertures on the outside, — the flour and bran at dif- 
ferent outlets. Descending still lower by a flight of steep, narrow 
stairs, with slender rails for support, we came in sight of the wheel 
and foaming current as it rushed through the sluice at the base of 
the ledge. Here, on the opposite side of the stream, stood the 
fulling-mill champing the cloth, the dye-pits, and along the banks 
the long stretch of frame for extending the cloths to dry. 

Then, at sunset on Saturday nights, might be seen, during the 
spring and summer season, the boys from a long way off" tramping 
along the roads, with their linen coats on their arms, to the Pond 
for their swimming frolic. A long frame, covered with plank and 
extending over the depth, formed an admirable platform for the 
divers. From this, following one another, sometimes by scores, 
they plunged, emerging above the surface at long distances, till the 
Pond was populous with heads. Many were the antics of the gay 
swimmers ; all possible evolutions being performed, and a race some- 



144 ^EW CONNECTICUT. 

times followed to the mills above. It was a salutary and charming 
sport, and a becoming preparation for the morrow's services. 

Note i6, page 29. 

The fruitful orchards furnished a common drink. Every house- 
holder in autumn laid in a supply for the season. Rows of barrels, 
extended along his cellar, were filled with the liquor. Much of this 
was drunk during the winter months ; the tankard was offered to the 
neighbor when he called ; and the bottle of cider was a constant 
companion of the mower and reaper going into the fields in sum- 
mer. Agreeing with the poet, the farmer questioned : — 

" Why reject 

Our native liquor, while for us the mill 
Still grinds choice apples, and the pomace vats 
•O'erflow with generous cider ; cider smooth 
Shall please all tastes and triumph o'er the vine." 

It was not until near the beginning of this century that distilleries 
were known in these parts, and cider- brandy became a common 
drink with any considerable number of the farmers. It was used 
chiefly during the haying and harvesting. The excesses of some 
soon led to measures for regiilating its sale. The temperance move- 
ment, begun by Dr. Beecher, then living at Litchfield, has since led 
to a general discussion of the subject, and legislation is still active in 
devising means for suppressing or regulating the sale. 



NOTES. 145 

Amidst the distracting views and measures now current, it may be 
instructive to listen to a word from Bishop Berkeley. Writing of 
the state of England in 1 740, he says : — 

"The public virtue and spirit of the British legislature never 
showed itself more conspicuous in any act than in that of suppress- 
ing the immediate use of spirituous liquors among the people, whose 
strength and numbers constitute the time wealth of a nation ; though 
evasive acts will, it is feared, prevail, so long as distilled spirits of 
any kind are allowed, — the character of Englishmen in general 
being like that of Brutus, Quicquid vtilt, valde milt. But why should 
such a canker be tolerated in the vitals of a state under any pre- 
tence or in any shape whatever ? Better by far the whole present 
set of distillers were pensioners of the public and their trade abol- 
ished by law, since the benefit thereof put together would not bal- 
ance the hundredth part of the mischief. To prove the destructive 
effects of such spirits, with regard both to the human species and 
individuals, we need not go so far as our colonies, or the savage 
nations of America. Plain proof may be had nearer home. For, 
albeit there is in every town or district throughout England some 
tough dram-drinker set up as a devil's decoy to draw proselytes, yet 
the ruined health and morals, and the beggary of such numbers, 
evidently show that we need no other enemy to complete our de- 
struction than the cheap luxury at the lower end of the state, and 
that a nation lighted up at both ends must soon be consumed." — 
Sir is ^ pp. 50, 51. 



146 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Note 17, page 30. 

Doubtless Captain John Alcock's company contributed its privates 
to serve under General Putnam, whose order he had received, Sep- 
tember 5, 1774, to march immediately to Boston with his forces. 
And ten days later he received from the colonel of his regiment 
(Colonel Strong, of Farmington) an order to have them ready "for 
marching at an hour's warning if need be." Three of his sons were 
privates in the Revolutionary army, John drawing his pension from 
the Government during his latter days. A venerable man, as I re- 
member him, fond of relating his war adventures in the " Jarseys^^'' 
proud of having seen General Washington, and of reciting the war 
ballads of that time. I find among my papers one of these copied 
by his owm hand. Some of the first verses are wanting, and several 
of the following are obscure, the paper being doubled and much 
worn. I have not seen these elsewhere : — 



' ' But Gage and Howe and Clinton too, 
And many thousand more, 
May cross the main, but all in vain : 
Our rights we '11 ne'er give o'er. 

" Our fathers gave them to their sons, 
And these again to theirs. 
And we '11 convey them safely down 
To our succeeding heirs. 



NOTES. 147 



*' Our properties we'll sure maintain, 
Our rights we '11 not resign, 
Nor these be sold for glittering gold 
Nor heaps of Spanish coin. 



" Tories may dream of future joys, 
But I am bound to say 
They '11 find themselves bound fast in chains 
If Britain wins the day. 

*' The cause for which we do contend 
We know is just and right. 
Therefore we trust the Lord of Hosts 
Will put our foes to flight. 

*' Then, in our Great Jehovah's name. 
And under his command. 
Let us go forth with one accord 
The fate of war to stand. 

" Husbands must leave their loving wives. 
And sprightly youth attend, — 
Leave their sweethearts and better selves. 
Their country to defend. 



148 ATE IV CONNECTICUT. 

*' May Heaven now guide us in the field 
And keep us safely there ; 
We pray the Lord will be our shield 
When thundering cannons roar." 

Whether written by some member of his regiment or other, they 
plainly speak the spirit of the time, poor as the doggerel verses are. 

Captain Alcock's commission is dated at Hartford, May 18, 1774, 
fourteenth year of the reign of George IH. 

Note 18, page 31. 

This instrument was made from the bole of a maple-tree grown in 
a bilberry- tangle on the confines of the farm (a wizard spot then 
to the young fancy). From this its sides, rim, and neck were fash- 
ioned by the knife ; the varnish, strings, and rosin were purchased at 
New Haven. The bow was strung from the tail of the family horse. 
My eyes were delighted with its beauty. It was an amusement and 
recreation for noon-spells and rainy days. I must confess the 
scrannel notes drawn forth were unreportable to cultivated ears. It 
disappeared in the hands of a dapper Hessian tailor, in payment for 
his work on the homespun suit, which sailed south on its adventures 
among the " First Families" of the Old Dominion. 



NOTES. 149 



Note 19, page 32. 

The custom of gleaning after the reapers came, it appears, with 
the introduction of wheat into Britain from the East, and was 
brought by the Puritans into New England, where it was continued 
in the rural districts until the beginning of the present century. 
Wheat was grown on the virgin lands until these were less produc- 
tive ; then gave place to the cultivation of rye. Gleaning was sel- 
dom seen in my boyhood. I seldom used the sickle, but oftener 
the cradle and the scythe. The haying season was one of continued 
labor and merriment. There was something picturesque and poetic 
in looking at the platoon of mowers delivering their swaths from the 
scythe across the meadow, and then following them with tedding- 
fork, spreading the new-mown grass. The cradling and binding 
the sheaves of rye gave a certain dignity to the laborer. But what- 
ever of picturesque grace once attached to these rural occupations 
is now superseded by prose machinery, and the golden age of poetic 
labor is departed from us. Still machinery has not destroyed the 
poetry of toil, while apple and berry picking remain to us. For 
what but the human hand can gracefully pluck an apple or a 
beny ? 

Note 20, page 34. 

" No picture of domestic life," says Atwater in his History of New 
Haven Colony, "in New England could be complete which did 
not exhibit the family observing the annual Thanksgiving. Reject- 



ISO NEW CONNECTICUT. 

ing Christmas, because of the superstitions which had attached 
themselves to it, the Puritans established in its place another festival, 
which became equally domestic in the manner of its observance. 
Children who had left their parents to prepare for the duties of 
adult life, or to occupy homes which they had established, were 
gathered again in the home of their nativity, or under the roof of 
those whom they had learned, since they were married, to call father 
and mother. Here they recounted the blessings of the year, and 
united in giving thanks to God. If there were children's children 
they came with their parents, and spent the hours which remained 
after worship in feasting and frolic. Whenever the family came to 
the table for breakfast, dinner, or supper, there was a grace before 
meat, and when they left it a grace after meat, — every person 
standing by his chair while the blessing was asked and the thanks 
were given. Family worship was an important feature of domestic 
life in Puritan households." 

Dr. Dvvight adds his testimony to the character of the Connecticut 
people : — 

"The State of Connecticut is distinguished, perhaps, from all 
other countries by a commanding regard to personal character. 

*' Here, in truth, 

Not in pretence, man is esteemed as man. 
Not here how rich, of what peculiar blood. 
Or office high ; but of what genuine worth, 
What talents bright and useful, what good deeds, 



NOTES. 151 

What piety to God, what love to man, 
The question is. To this an answer fair 
The general heart secures." 

Dr. Dwight's Travels. 

Note 21, page 35. 

" Threading the needle " was a favorite play with the young 
people. Blindman's buff, Throwing the handkerchief, huskings, 
and apple bees, sleigh rides, and a dance after quiltings were 
also favorite amusements. A " raising" was an occasion of interest 
and merriment to both old and young. The game called "Thread- 
ing the Needle " was played by children or young persons, one of 
each sex standing together with their hands joined and arms raised, 
under which the other players passed, until the two chose to drop 
their arms, and catch a girl or boy, who must then pay a kiss to be 
set free. The players sung, meantime, this verse : — 

*' The needle's eye no one can pass, 
The thread that mns so true ; 
It has caught many a pretty fair lass, 
And now it has caught you." 

Note 22, page 36. 

William Andrews Alcott. He was my cousin and a little older 
than myself. Living in sight, we sought each other's society when- 
ever we could steal away from our home duties, hoping to find in 



152 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

conversation and reading food for our minds not accessible to us at 
school, nor within the limits of our immediate neighborhood. We 
read the same books, borrowed any within our reach that promised 
to be interesting or instructive ; formed a Juvenile Library, as we 
called it ; corresponded by letters, delivering these at each other's 
doors ; cherished like dreams of the future. Teaching was a desira- 
ble occupation and possible for us ; we even aspired to authorship. 
A new spelling-book was thought to be needed, and, should we at- 
tain to a position of eminence in medicine or the ministry, might be 
written. Dr. Alcott's writings on hygiene and primary education 
were numerous ; they had a wide popularity for a time, and might 
be read still with profit. He was a pioneer in reforms, in methods 
of teaching and discipline. As a teacher in his district his reputa- 
tion was second to none. His papers contributed to the " American 
Journal of Education " contain suggestions to which many of the 
modem improvements owe their origin. He was for some time 
associated with Mr. William C. Woodbridge in conducting the 
•* Annals of Education," and succeeded him as its editor. Few men 
have lived lives of more untiring industry. His modesty was the 
only impediment to a wide and just appreciation by his contempo- 
raries. 

Note 23, page 37. 

The " Hartford Courant" and " New Haven Register" were the 
only newspapers that came into our neighborhood. The former was 
brought by a post-rider across the Hill ; we rode to " Woodtick," 



NOTES. 153 

two miles away, for the latter. With what avidity we devoured the 
accounts of battles by sea and land and skirmishes with the Indians ! 
— purchasing greedily of the pedlers pictures and maps of the 
struggle. Nor were the politics lost on us. Jefferson, Madison, 
and Jackson were names familiar. We schoolboys caught some 
notion of what they represented, to the extent even of becoming 
partisans, — " democratic " or "federal," the latter largely. Then 
we had our military company, meeting weekly for exercise with our 
wooden swords and guns, with plumes in our hats plucked from the 
feathered fowl, cockades of "sheepskin morocco," I had the honor 
of rising from ensign to lieutenant, from that to the highest rank 
known, — that of captain ; and, after serving at the head of my com- 
pany, of resigning my office, making a flaming speech, — eloquent, 
of course, and winning plaudits from the brave. 



Note 24, page 38. 

The business of clock-making was begun in this neighborhood by 
Ely Terry. In 1806 Mr. Terry established himself at the Falls on 
Hancock's Brook in Plymouth, employing Messrs. Silas Hoadly and 
Seth Thomas in manufacturing wooden clocks. He had previously 
done a small business of the kind in another part of the town. This 
clock-shop was situated above a mile from Spindle Hill. It was 
reached by a blind, precipitous pathway, leading down the declivity 
through a narrow defile, following and crossing repeatedly a little 
rushing stream, as it wound its way towards the factory. This 



154 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

neighborhood was then named Ireland. Hancock's Brook, on the 
north, flowed through pleasant meadows of the same name. South 
of the Falls, the stream ran noisily over a rocky bed, at the base of 
overhanging cliffs, emptying into the Naugatuck at Waterville. The 
Hartford and Fishkill Railroad has cleaved its way along the margin 
for some distance, and by a circuitous passage across the highlands, 
descending by a deep cut to Bristol, and thence to Hartford. Here, 
at the Falls, Messrs. Thomas and Hoadly prosecuted a successful 
business till some time in the year 1813, when Mr, Thomas trans- 
ferred his business to Church Hollow (Plymouth), and gave his 
name to the thriving village, which owes its prosperity, if not its 
existence, chiefly to his skill and enterprise, ranking now as one 
of the great manufacturing towns in the valley of the Naugatuck. 

The western and northern sides of New Connecticut were covered 
with a luxuriant growth of ivy, esteemed of little worth, till Messrs. 
Terry, Thomas, and Hoadly brought the wood into use for clock 
pinions. The owners of these woodlands furnished this "clock- 
stuff"," as it was called, ready for the turner, by a cutting machine 
invented for this purpose. The new industry also created a demand 
for clock -cords, which were manufactured from flax raised by the 
farmers, and spun ready for use ; while the young men and women 
were tempted by the offer of fair wages into the factory as turners, 
or in putting the clocks together, ornamenting the faces, and other 
forms of work. The farms, in consequence, were neglected ; the 
spinning and weaving were becoming superseded by the cheapness 
of cotton fabrics. The young men, emulous of adventure, or of 



NOTES. 155 

more lucrative employment during the winter months, went South as 
pedlers of the clocks. Presently tin-ware and dry goods were added 
to their stock in trade. As the years passed and a new generation 
came forward, the farms had grown up with timber, and the days 
of industry and thrift in New Connecticut had departed. 

My work at the factoiy consisted of " fitting parts and putting to- 
gether." In itself it was neither hard nor disagreeable. But it left 
me less of the freedom for reading and study with which I had been 
favored hitherto ; and, after urgent persuasion on my part, I was 
permitted to return and attend school. 

Note 25, page 39. 

Rev. John Keyes. He was a faithful servant of the town during 
his ministry, and while a generation of young men and women were 
coming forward to take part in its affairs. Up to his time the 
pursuit had been mainly agriculture, but now new industries had 
sprung into existence in the neighboring towns, and drawn the young 
people away by the offer of better wages or more agreeable pursuits. 
Many had chosen to pass the winter months at the South, and, on 
their return, brought from there freer manners than the sober citizens 
deemed respectable, and particularly unbecoming to the gravity of 
public worship on Sunday. The high pews in the galleries were 
then wont to be crowded with the gay idolaters, anticipating the 
evening's devotions rather than those proper to the sanctuary. If the 
preacher was in earnest in his worship, not less earnest and devout 



156 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

were they in theirs, — even while the gayest appeared to be taking 
notes of his discourse. Mr. Keyes was the first minister of his de- 
nomination of whom I have any distinct remembrance. Mr. Wood- 
ward had passed away some years before his settlement. The day 
of Mr. Keyes's installation was a memorable occasion. Rev. Dr. 
Lyman Beecher, then residing in Litchfield, preached the sermon, 
and left a lively impression on my memory. His bearing in the pul- 
pit was superbly serious and impressive. His arguments, pointed 
with emphasis by the spectacles dropped or raised, as he dealt forth 
his doctrine, thunderous at times, and illuminated by the lighting 
of his countenance, were in a style of eloquence as unique as it 
was effective. Beside his part, I remember nothing of the day's 
exercises. 

The church has undergone many reverses since that time. A 
bright and memorable occasion was the celebration of the centenary 
of the church in September, 1873, which brought together from dis- 
tant parts m'any who had their birth and had passed their early days 
within its territoiy. A poem read at that time draws a characteristic 
sketch of the place and of its history. The author is the well-known 
poet of Concord, nephew and namesake of Dr. Channing, the 
divine. 

*' The ages pass, their heroes live and fade, 
And mythic pens prose to a future shade ; 
Again the Trojan plains refresh our sight. 
The flashing plumes Astyanax delight, 



NOTES. 157 

Again to us, — again his Sabine farm 
The Roman Horace sends us with a charm, 
And silver Virgil slowly tunes his lay, — 
Time was and is, — let us implore to-day. 

" In these plain fields, upon old Spindle Hill, 
Not vainly Wolcott looks, nor turns its mill 
Mad River, — child of the deep and moss -clad swamp, 
Around whose spruce our wandering thoughts encamp. 
For sweet renew the fading dreams of old, 
"When the fleet Indian here was hunting bold. 
Not merely savage, but possessed with sense. 
Social and kind, shrewd in his eloquence. 
No more destructive, formed to mash and slay ; 
He loved to see the softening light delay 
On Wolcott's height and touch her shadowy vales, 
Child of mysterious thought and Nature's ails. 
His altar was the sunshine on the hills, 
The bird's quick song, the woodland or the rills. 
And where to-day we greet the Hundred Years, 
Since first this church allayed uncivil fears. 
Toiled on dark centuries a mouldering knell, 
Trees were their pillars, winds were all the bell. 

** To us, this hundred years more than a line 
Of tawny sachems comes, a thought divine ; 



158 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

It in our human nature has its dates, 

And more to tis than outward things relates. 

The Fathers' home, Wolcott the dear, the good, 

The hills, the vales, a crowning multitude, 

Eying afar the steeples where they shine, 

From Spindle Hill we touch the blue sea brine, 

And Farmingbury names the simple truth. 

As now, so in the pastime of her youth, 

They ploughed the shining glebe, they stocked the mill. 

Rising from homelier attributes to skill, 

Our virtuous Fathers, strong and steady folk, 

Slow in their motion, not divest of joke ; 

On * proxing day ' they voted for the best, 

To guide the impulse of the busy nest. 

They brewed the vintage oft from mellow grain. 

Saw rich Pomona load the joyous wain. 

Bearing great tributes from the orchards here, 

In sparkling cups desiderable cheer. 

Pleased with sobriety, our yeomen held 

Feasts of the farming genius, not impelled 

By thoughtless Fashion's cold, unfeeling sway, 

A spendthrift worm that eats its web away. 

The husking frolic made the barn aloud. 

The ruddy corn sent laughter through the crowd. 

While the coy virgin held the blackened ear, 

Half mischief-bent, she still reserved its fear ; 



NOTES. 159 

And gay Philajtder marching chose his love, — 
His choice forever, let us hope to prove. 

No word profane then sullied house or street ; 

The time was innocent, its moral sweet. 

So lived the fathers ; natural men were they : 

Whate'er they held, the youth should swift obey. 

They did not spare the law the child to spoil ; 

They cherished industiy, nor thought it toil. 

Duly each Sabbath to this church they came, 

Devoutly pious in salvation's flame, 

Good counsels got that brought the week in view ; 

Here might one think, and here his thought renew. 

' An English race an English tint may prize. 
The Saxon blonde that shines from friendly eyes ; 
Light waves the tress across yon Parian brow ; 
Blue are those tender orbs as violets grow, — 
Those pleasant glances of the English maid, 
Stealing along the burnside by the glade. 
Such blood shows temperate, such in virtue grows, 
Loves the old homestead where the sires repose ; 
The modest field along the gentle height, — 
Where rest from all their labors, from the fight, 
The silent hermits of the peaceful cell : 
'After life's fitful fever they sleep well,' — 



l6o NEW CONNECTICUT. 

So sang a poet once ; and yet this race, 
After life's earnest action, seek for grace, — 
Softly that watchful sky bends patient down. 
And winds and waters smooth their burial-town. 

** And must we ask for monuments more high 

Than these plain stones? and should this church defy, 

With pillared arches or o'er fretting spire, 

Time's deepest dents or the last judgment-fire ? 

A glittering abbey 's but a sty of monks. 

Dull contributions piled o'er filthy trunks. 

Our people are the church, its virtues shine 

As theirs in eminence, — the work divine ; — 

If they control their thoughts, their passion stay. 

Seek generous acts, and truth and love obey, — 

Strive for unhappy souls who, strewn about. 

Need home and friends, wrecked on the rabble rout, - 

The pallid widow, left her mate to mourn, 

Or narrow orphan by remonstrance shorn. 

*' We build this church of justice, carve the right 
Along her battlements, whose heaven -born flight 
Defies the patience of the loftiest tower. 
Spurns history, and dates from Virtue's hour ; 
Something that never feels the chill of death, 
No moth, no rust ; that draws its lovely breath 



NOTES. l6i 

From groves of Palm, by R'ivers of the Cross, 
Deliverance from alarm, beyond all loss. 
Such are our altars, — these our flamens wear 
Across their hearts, Be good and true, be fair ! — 
Like some cold fountain to a traveller's taste, 
In his hot summer toil across the waste, 
Nor all unknown, for from this Mount may flow 
Pure streams of thought such as the gods allow. 
This youthful pilgrim with his pack unslung, 
From far Virginia's vales, — unbind his tongue, 
And prove how love and beauty yet are clear 
In Wolcott's skies as in the Athenian year. 
And many a mirthful child shall eager hold. 
The cheerful sermons from this pulpit rolled. 
Tales that in all the households of the land 
Call up their ' Little Women ' to be grand. 

■ Let us believe, yea, may we oft declare. 
That round us lies a scene as rich, as fair, 
As that Boccaccio dreamt and Milton caught, 
"When on its wings upsprung the verdurous thought 
Of Paradise ; rare because innocent. 
Fair l;)ecause true, — pledge of a people bent 
To make their problem clear, — self-government ; 
No gilded king betrays his hollow fate. 
The tattered symbol of a treacherous date ; 



l62 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

No tax-built church compels us here to sign 

Thirty-nine articles, or life resign. 

Here every man is to himself a state, 

His own prerogative, his own debate. 

The land is ours, those heavens are our own, 

The race here blossoms, more maturely grown ; 

We may not seek to live a down-trod life, 

Bring back mad Rome, or whet Napoleon's knife. 

Enough the grassy fields that round us lie, 

Enough the cheerful hill, dear Wolcott's eye. 

That by its lifting purifies the air, 

And shows us blither to both sun and star. 



Child of the ancient Race, who sailed with fate, 

Across cold ocean's vault not desolate ; 

Child of the blue-eyed Saxon, here thy sire 

Built his warm hearth-stone, here Ut up its fire ; 

Never let us forget from whence we came. 

From Shakespeare's fields, fanned by an English flame, 

United by the past, yet one to-day, 

Fused by humanity's o'ermastering ray. — 

Then may the people lift the song of praise. 

And ask the Lord to grant them length of days, 

To screen our church from madness and deceit. 

In virtue's strength each virtuous soul entreat. 



NOTES. 1 63 

And in those future hours when future years, 
Build up by hundreds o'er our smiles and tears, 
Must never sin nor stain pollute this soil, 
Of peace the faithfullest, of love the oil ! " 

Note 26, page 42. 

" The Naugatuck River rises in the Green Mountains, in the town- 
ship of Norfolk, near the north line of the State. Thence, in a 
course generally south, it passes through Winchester, Torrington, 
Harwinton, Plymouth, Waterbury, and Oxford to Derby. Its 
length is about forty miles, its current rapid, and, when swollen by 
freshets, as it often is veiy suddenly, violent and destructive. It 
furnishes a great number of mill-seats, and is in many places lined 
with beautiful intervals. Notwithstanding the roughness of the 
country through which it passes, its bed is worn so deep, and to 
so uniform a surface, that from Waterbury, northward, one of the 
smoothest and most level turnpike roads in the State has been formed 
on its banks." — Dwight's Travels. 

Note 27, page 43. 
The valley of the Naugatuck is now known chiefly as the seat of 
extensive manufactures, due to the enterprise and thrift of its inhab- 
itants ; its banks being dotted with factories almost the whole line 
of its passage from Winsted to Derby Landing. Hardly any sec- 
tion of New England presents a busier aspect to the traveller. 



l64 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Waterbury, its chief town and city, is famed for its numerous rolling- 
mills and brass manufactures of various kinds ; Thomaston for 
its clocks ; Birmingham for its pin manufacture. Throughout its 
whole distance this valley is a workshop for a busy population. All 
this has sprung up within the present century. Derby and Hum- 
phreysville (Seymour) were considerable places before this date : for 
fisheries, ship-building, and coasting trade at Derby ; and for woollen 
manufactures at Humphreysville. Then "Waterbury was a mere vil- 
lage, containing less than 3,000 people in the township. At an earlier 
date, "Wadsworth, then making a tour of observation, records in his 
journal : " August, 1694. — We came this day to Mattatuck, alias 
Waterbury, being about eight or ten miles from Woodbury. 'T is 
a very bad road between the towns. A small river, whereon there 
is some valuable land, runs through Waterbury, which is a small 
town, though very compact, of twenty-five families. Rev, Mr. 
Peck is their minister. They have a new meeting-house, though 
not completed." 

My earhest recollections are associated with the Green and steeples 
of this ancient village. I sometimes rode behind my mother on 
horseback four miles to attend church at St. John's, and lunched at 
noon with a relative of hers. Her brother Tillotson had been rector 
of St. John's a few years before. The steeples were the first I had 
seen so near, and excited my curiosity. I had only seen such from 
the summit of New Connecticut, Wolcott meeting-house having 
none. My mother, bred an Episcopalian, preferred attending 
church here before services were held in the schoolhouse on Spindle 



NOTES. 165 

Hill. A portion of the Green was then a frog-pond and reedy fen. 
The young folks used at noontime to pull sweet-flag there, chewing 
the root in service-time. Here, to the mills on Mad River, when 
the water was low at the Great Falls, I sometimes came, riding atop 
of sacks of rye ; waiting for my grist to be ground, and returning in 
like manner. The clock factories, then a novelty, stood near the 
mill, and, being curious about machinery and woodcraft, I often lin- 
gered there. 

Note 28, page 43. 

*' Forthwith the crowd proceed to deck, 
"With haltered noose, McFingal's neck . 
While he, on peril of his soul. 
Stood tied, half hanging from the pole. 
Then, lifting high the ponderous jar, 
Poured on his head the smoking tar. 
His flowing wig, as next the brim. 
First met and drank the sable stream ; 
Adown his visage, stern and brave. 
Rolled and adhered the viscid wave ; 
With arms depending as he stood, 
Each cuff capacious holds the flood ; 
From nose and chin's remotest end 
The tarry icicles descend ; 
Till all o'erspread with colors gay 
He glittered in the western ray, 



l66 NEW CONNECTICUT, 

Like sleet-bound trees in wintiy skies, 

Or Lapland idol carved in ice. 

And now the feathered bag displayed 

Is waved in triumph o'er his head, 

And clouds him o'er with feathers missive, 

And down upon the tar adhesive. 

Not Maia's son, with wings for ears. 

Such plumage round his visage wears ; 

Nor Milton's six-winged angel gathers 

Such superfluity of feathers. 

Now all complete appears our squire, 

Like gorgon or chimera dire ; 

Nor more could boast on Plato's plan 

To rank among the race of man, 

Or prove his claim to human nature 

As a two-legged, unfeathered creature." 

McFiugal, Canto IIL 



Note 29, page 44. 

In an ode of his, entitled "Mount Vernon," General Humphreys 
thus alludes to his acquaintance with Washington : — 

' ' By broad Potomac's azure tide, 

Where Vernon's mount in sylvan pride 
Displays its beauties far, 



NOTES. 167 

Great Washington to peaceful shades, 

Where no unhallowed wish invades, 

Retired from fields of war. 

" Let others sing his deeds in arms : 
A nation saved and conquests' charms 

Posterity shall hear. 
'Twas mine, retired from Europe's courts, 
To share his thoughts, partake his sports, 

And soothe his partial ear." 



1786. 



Note 30, page 45. 

This institution is probably the oldest of the kind in the country. 
The first steps towards its organization were taken by the Convention 
of the Diocese in 1794, very soon after the consecration of Bishop 
Seabury. For many years it was the most celebrated seat of learning 
in the State under the control of Churchmen ; it was both college and 
theological seminary for this and other dioceses. Dr. Bronson was 
for many years the principal of the school. He was distinguished 
for his classical and mathematical attainments. He was a theolo- 
gian of eminence, and the choice of a large portion of the diocese 
of Connecticut for the Bishopric. For many years he was editor of 
the Churchman's Magazine, to which he contributed portions of his 
lectures delivered to his students, entitled " Science the Handmaid of 



1 68 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Religion," a poem entitled "Retrospect," describing his birthplace 
on the Naugatuck, and sonnets to the several months. 
Portions of his verses entitled " Retrospect" follow : — 

*' Sweet vale, secluded from the world's vain strife, 
Where Science never trod, where Genius slept 
In unambitious, humble life, 
And calm Religion sought retreat, — 
Thy flowery lawns, thy green enamelled meads 
Untuned to numbers, thee I joyous greet. 

** Full on the right a mountain peers sublime ; 
There leafy forests crown its rounded brow ; 
There up the rocky steep securely climb 
Few straggling, stinted oaks ; and there 
A naked moss-grown cliff of sable hue 
Bedims with gloom the sun's declining glare. 

** A dark -green, twofold pine, ascending tall, 
Just on the precipice's dizzy height, 
Nods to the winds and threats a fall. 
The seated hill and subject plain 
In seeming haze the swimming eye confuse, 
And all the kindled dazzling senses pain. 

" See there, from forth its base, meandering creep 
And silent glide along the broadening stream, 



XOTES. 169 

On whose smooth surface calmly sleep 
The banks and stooping forest nigh 
Inverted, with the climbing rocky mound, 
And underneath the blue ethereal sky. 

" Tali sycamores with branching elms combine, 
Casting a solemn shade along the green 
Where ruminating herds recline, 
Or plunging down they stand and lave 
Their panting sides, by swarming insects stung, 
Or snuff the cooling breeze and sip the wave. 

" Beyond the flood luxuriant pastures smile, 
Or ripened com that waves before the wind, 
To glad the swain and toil beguile 
Of gleeful boys who shock the grain • 
Enlivening scene ! Rich source of earthly joy ! 
Where health, and peace, and calm contentment reign. 

" Blithe from the couch, long ere the blazing sun 
Has peeped above the eastern hoar)' cliffs, 
They rise ; and, morning service done, 
Nerved for the field they hie away, 
Snuffing the cool, the pure, the fragrant breeze. 
Successive thus rolls on each passing day. 



I70 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

*' Here first I drank the stream of vital air. 
First saw tlie glorious sun with shining orb, 
And all this mundane scene so fair ; 
Here still my soul would wander pleased, 
And greet the verdant landscape o'er and o'er, 
From burdening thoughts and labored study eased. 

" Here first Religion warmed my laboring breast ; 
First here I felt her pure, enlivening glow ; 
My secret soul her guilt confessed 
To Him who sees through night's dark reign 
As full, as clear, as at the mid -day blaze, 
And pardon metes when contrite hearts complain. 

" Ye smiling glens, embosomed deep in hills 
Where never swept the rude tornado's rage, 
Ne'er may you know the ruder ills 
Of warring man, intent on spoil ; 
Here may the fragal swain securely dwell. 
And load his healthy board from sweatening toil. 

" Hence, luxury, begone ; nor with thy breath 

From splendid halls and midnight feasts untold 

Spread pestilence and venomed death : 

Thy poisonous steaming drugs be far ; 

Taint not those streams from gushing founts that flow, 

And nature's purest, healthiest beverage mar. 



NOTES. 171 

While the firm earth endures, while rivers glide, 
O Thou, Vv'ho guid'st the universal whole, 
May health and plenty here reside. 
By labor and by temperance bought ; 
And thou, romantic dale, to memory dear, 
My home ! be thou my latest earthly thought. 

The sun now sinks behind the western hill, 

And casts a cooling shade along the fields ; 

Anon comes grateful twilight, still 

Unbroke, save by the tinkling bell, 

And lowing herds, re-greeting glad their young. 

Or scanted stream faint murmuring down the dell. 

The hour of darksome night, assigned to rest 
F'or weary toil, ensues ; the mansion closed. 
The kneeling sire, with contrite breast, 
Invokes the Power that reigns above, 
His household gathered round in solemn pause, 
And asks his daily bread from Boundless Love. 

Sweet slumber, falling, closes every eye ; 
Unheard, the ticking clock tolls out his knell, 
Till Hesper speaks gray morning nigh, 
Or from his perch the cock's shrill voice 
Calls tuneful nature all to wake and sing, 
And in the great Creator's praise rejoice." 



172 NEW CONNECTICUT. 



Note 31, page 46. 



The spacious Green, the colleges, and bookstores were objects of 
admiration. Among other fancies at this time I remember the one 
of applying for a place in a bookstore, thinking I might thus have a 
chance to read the books. My first glance at a library had been at 
Cheshire on my way. The sight of so many books saddened me 
with the thought that T might never be able to read them all. I 
recall the title of a single volume ; it was Ray's " Wisdom of God 
Manifested in the Works of the Creation." The author was a 
person of celebrity in his time. 

Note 32, page 48. 

A letter written at this period remains, and may find place as a 
note with the full title-page of the book named therein : — 

"WoLCOTT, May 29, 1817. 

"Dear Friend, — I have been so busied about many things 
since your letter came to hand, that I have hardly had any time to 
reply as I wished. 

" About ray summer : I have concluded to remain at home and 
work on the farm, giving my leisure time to studying Burgh's 
'Dignity.' I can borrow the book of my aunt. Having read it 
yourself, you know its value. Does it not illustrate Pope's line in 
making the reader 

* To see all others' faults and feel his own ' ? 



NOTES. 173 

" Wishing you much pleasure and profit in reading Rollin's 

' Ancient History,' I am yours truly, 

Amos B. Alcox. 
"William A. Alcox." 

The title of this book is, " The Dignity of Human Nature ; or, 
A Brief Account of the Certain and Established Means for Attaining 
the True End of our Existence. In Four Books. I. Of Prudence. 
II. Of Knowledge. III. Of Virtue. IV. Of Revealed Religion. 
By James Burgh. 

*' ' Qui se ipse novit, intelliget se habere aliquid Divinum, sem- 
perque et sentiet et faciei aliquid tanto munere dignum.' — Cicero.''^ 

A thoughtful and instmctive volume, to which I am indebted 
for many wise counsels and useful suggestions. It was a Boston 
edition, printed in 1 794. This and "Pilgrim's Progress" were 
favorite reading. 

Note 33, page 49. 

I should be disloyal to myself and my author did I not record my 
early interest in this delightful allegoiy, the charm it had for me 
when a boy, the ideal life which its perusal awoke and fostered in 
my rural retreat, afar from books and the haunts of cultivated people. 
More tlian any work of genius, more than all other books, the 
Dreamer's Dream brought me into Hving acquaintance with myself, 
my duties ; and if the value of a work is to be determined by its 
power to interest and educate its readers, then I must acknowledge 



174 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

my debt to be greatest to the author of " Pilgrim's Progress." The 
copy which I borrowed so often of a cousin is now in my possession. 
It is an illustrated edition, published in Edinburgh in 1802. 

Note 34, page 51. 
Rev. John Flavel was an English Nonconformist clergyman, whose 
books were much prized by pious people of the Puritan stamp. Be- 
sides this treatise on " Keeping the Heart," he wrote " Husbandry 
Spiritualized," "The Touchstone of Sincerity," "The Soul of 
Man," "Divine Conduct," "An Exposition of the Assembly's 
Catechism," and other books. 

Note 35, page 53. 
I have reason to be grateful to my parents for leaving me free to 
choose and fashion a religious faith in accordance with my native 
temperament and gifts. I was taught to reverence and speak the 
truth and practise personal purity. Beside these, I was taught at 
school to recite the Westminster and Episcopal Catechisms. At 
sixteen years of age I was confirmed in the church at Waterbury, 
having been christened when an infant by my uncle Tillotson. 
After confirmation I became a lay reader in the schoolhouse on 
Spindle Hill. In the formation of my religious views, I am not 
aware of being permanently influenced by any contemporary. There 
is a spiritual as there is a human heredity, a family creed and like- 
ness. Very naturally the Episcopal tendencies of one's namesake 
and godfather may crop out in his grandson ; the Broad Church 



^ 



NOTES. 175 

into which he was bom, baptized, and confirmed better express his 
considered faith than other of the dissenting denominations, however 
liberal and devout. The man is implied in all faiths, and he alone 
gives soundness and significance to any. An anonymous writer best 
expresses this : — 

" The union of a sect within itself is a pitiful charity. It is no 
concord of Christians, but a conspiracy against Christ ; and they 
that love one another for special rites and rules love for their own 
sakes, not their Lord's ; not because they love his image, but be- 
cause they bear one another's." 

Note 36, page 54. 
A lady who was present at the installation of Mr. Keys relates 
that when the hour came for service at the church, " the members of 
the Council formed a procession, two by two, then the choir, and 
following them, in the same manner, the members of the church. 
The meeting-house was full, the singers in the gallery nearly filling 
the front seats on three sides. The bass singers sat on the west side 
of the gallery, David Harrison with bass-viol in the centre ; the tenor 
and counter on the south side, and Stephen Harrison with tenor-viol 
in the centre ; first treble on the east side, and Dr. Harvey Norton 
with violin in the centre." 

Note yj, page 56. 
"The Puritan Sabbath began on Saturday at sunset. House- 
keepers prepared for the morrow's day of rest by putting everything 



176 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

in readiness, that all unnecessary labor might be avoided. The floors 
were scrubbed in the cleanest manner, the Sunday's attire made 
ready. The Sunday was at once a holy day and a holiday, the 
Puritan restraint with which it was kept till sunset giving place in 
the evening to recreation and social converse. Though young men 
were forbidden to 'inveigle or draw the affections of any maid without 
the consent of father, master, guardian, governor, or such other who 
hath the interest in charge (or, in the absence of such, of the nearest 
magistrate), whether by speech, writing, messages, company-keeping, 
sinful dalliance, gifts, or any other way,' yet every respectable young 
man knew of some house where he met on Sunday evening one of 
the maidens whom he had seen in the opposite gallery of the meet- 
ing-house, without fear that father, master, guardian, or governor 
would be displeased." — Atwaters History of Neio Haven Colony. 

Note 38, page 59. 

" They love their land because it is their own, 
And scorn to give aught other reason why ; 
Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, 

And think it kindness to his majesty. 
A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none. 

Such are they nurtured, such they live and die, — 
All but a few apostates, who are meddling 
With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence, and peddling." 

Halleck^s Connecticut. 



NOTES. 177 

The business of peddling was a profitable one at this time, and at 
its height of prosperity. Dr. Dwight has given a good account of 
it in his Travels. 

"The pedler's load is composed of tinware, pins, needles, scis- 
sors, combs, buttons, children's books, cotton stuffs, a smaller or 
larger assortment to offer to his customers. A number set out with 
large wagons loaded with dry-goods, hats, and shoes, together with 
tinware and the small articles already mentioned. These loads will 
frequently cost the proprietor from one to tv.o thousand dollars, and 
are intended exclusively for the Southern and Western States. It is 
frequently the fact that from twenty to thirty persons are employed 
by a single house in the manufacturing and selling of tinwaiv: 
and other articles. The workmen, furnished with a suffi cent quan- 
tity of the raw material to employ them for six months, are sent by 
water in the autumn to Virginia, North and South Carolina, and 
Georgia. They station themselves at some town in the interior, 
where the employer or agent has a store well furnished with such 
articles as the pedlers require. As the stock of each pedler is ex- 
hausted he repairs to the store for a supply. In this way a large 
amount of goods are vended during the six or eight months they are 
absent." 

Not less than ten from Wolcott often went South during several 
seasons. These were mostly employed by a house in Southington. 



178 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Note 39, page 59. 

Norfolk was a winter-stand for pedlers at this time. Tinware 
was manufactured there on Church Street, the pedlers being refur- 
nished with their supplies as these were disposed of in the surround- 
ing counties. A county license was required from the authorities. 
Other articles were added to their load if desired. Once a place of 
some importance, Norfolk then owed its standing chiefly to the 
naval station at Gosport. Foreign vessels were often seen sailing 
into the spacious harbor, or anchored in the stream, their national 
colors at masthead. In the streets, at evening particularly, were 
seamen from all parts of the world, dressed in their national cos- 
tumes. Water Street was a famous resort for them. Market Street 
and Square were the centres of business. Hither came the country- 
men in their tumbrels, laden with their small ventures, from the sale 
of which they supplied themselves with needful comforts for their 
families, or small trades. Gentlemen might often be seen in the 
saddles protected from the slush underfoot by " spatterdashes " 
strapped about their legs. Gigs were common vehicles. At the 
foot of the market were the ferry stairs, from v^'hich row-boats at 
regular intervals conducted passengers to and fro between the 
Borough and Portsmouth Landing opposite. 



NOTES. 179 



Note 40, page 60. 

When I went into Princess Ann County in quest of employment 
as a schoolmaster, the strangeness of the country and of the people 
in that neighborhood soon led me to question whether I was not 
bent on a fool's errand, and must not reclaim my good sense by 
seeking another calling at once. And a venerable gentleman, whose 
guest I was for the night, had the kindness to assure me of the hojDe- 
lessness of my pursuit, though I drew from my pocket my credentials, 
signed by the learned principal of Cheshire Academy. Why, then, 
longer persist in chasing an absurdity ? It was plain that these 
people, dwelling here around the fens bordering on Dismal Swamp, 
ignorant as they were, had sense enough not to engage a strolling 
schoolmaster, come all the way from Yankeeland, to instruct their 
children. Convinced of the folly of the chase, 1 turned my face 
towards Norfolk. The Dismal swamp was before me. I entered it 
some time in the afternoon. The path led alongside the canal, — 

*' By tangled junipers, beds of reeds. 
By many a fen, where the serpent breeds." 

Evening approached, and the long stretch of the canal was still 
before me. A tempest arose, adding to the loneliness and terror. 
The cypresses, bent and swayed by the blast, fell now and then 
across the path, threatening the head of the traveller. It was late in 
the evening when I found my companions in the Borough. Dismal 



l8o NEW CONNECTICUT. 

as was the adventure, and discouraging, it saved me from a disas- 
trous failure in pedagogy, and set me upon quite another errand. 

Note 41, page 60. 
My range was round the Square in Norfolk, through the Market 
early in the morning, and from thence to the citizens' doors on 
the principal streets ; sometimes across the ferry to Portsmouth. 
My almanacs were bought by the dozen at the bookstore, and 
offered single to purchasers. It was a good day's work when my 
profits reached a dollar, though some days they were double that sum. 
It required more confidence, at first, than I could readily summon, 
to accost a person and offer my trifle. Habit, however, soon gave 
facility, even something of dignity, to my attitude, and won respect. 
A foot-peddler, even now, when I meet one, awakens the former 
sensations, and puts me in his place for the time. This feeling 
humanizes ; and I esteem it a fortunate incident in my career to 
have been engaged in several different occupations, and thus brought 
into sympathy with persons in the humbler walks of life. 

Note 42, page 61. 

The sale of almanacs was limited to the holidays. Norfolk and 
Portsmouth had been canvassed and supplied for the current year. 
Now for other fields of adventure. A shrewd dealer in fancy goods 
offers credit for any amount of trinkets one may select from his store 
on Market Street. The offer is auspicious and timely. So two 



NOTES. l8l 

hand-tranks are purchased and filled with a brilliant assortment of 
articles, both ornamental and useful, — purchased at fabulous prices, 
the dealer knowing his man. 

Gudgeon confessed, he buys, nor once demurs, 
His dazzled eyes the cheated customers; 
Why should he hesitate, why need repent, 
To sell in turn at thirty-three per cent ? 

Note 43, page 63. 

Hospitality is an historic trait of the Virginian, one in which he 
takes a loyal pride. I find my journals and letters bear testimony 
to this virtue as regards myself, — pedestrian as I was, and pedler 
there. I remember but a single instance to the contrary, which 
it seems was bruited about the neighborhood many years after its 
occurrence, to be caught up by a travelling correspondent of the 
New York Tribune, and given a yet wider currency. The writer 
indulges in humor to suit his mood at the time of writing. 

"At Stafford Court-House, strange to say, we learned something 
concerning another New England Transcendentalist, though of quite 
a different character from that which related to Mr, Emerson. The 
subject was even the philosopher of the Conversazione, A. Bronson 
Alcott. To our astonishment, we learned this modern Plato had 
been a pedler of Boston notions — of veritable lace, thimbles, etc. — 
before he had entered on the peddling of Transcendental truth. It 
was about forty years before, according to our informant, that Plato 



1 82 JVEIV CONNECTICUT. 

came with his box of ' notions ' to Stafford Court-House and put up 
at the tavern. On the following day, which was Sunday, wishing 
to see the neighborhood, he obtained a horse from some one, and, 
instead of going to meeting, which was conducted by a favorite 
young divine newly sent thither from the Baltimore Conference, 
Alcott went 'gadding about the country,' profanely enough. Indis- 
creet man ! Little did he know the storm that was preparing a 
thunderbolt for his sacrilegious head. On his return to the tavern, 
the pious innkeeper informed him that for no price could he retain 
in his house a man who would violate the Lord's Day by riding 
about the country. He would not be persuaded ; and Alcott was 
cast forth tavernless upon the shores of Virginia. However, an old, 
friendly, and rather liberal gentleman (who took a Boston Univer- 
salist newspaper) took him in, where Alcott found his 'ungodliness 
with contentment to be great gain.' Little did we expect to hear 
two such good stories about Alcott and Emerson in such a region. 
Our tea at the tavern had been execrable before ; but, sweetened 
by this bit of romance, it became almost aesthetic." 

The anecdote of Emerson related to a student who, being sent to 
the South to teach, died there of consumption, but told of Emer- 
son's kindness to him when penniless, and assisting him about his 
education at Harvard College. 

As to the tavern-keeper, it was he who took in the vagabond after 
the Methodist preacher had ejected him from his house, where 
hospitality had been offered for the Sunday. 



NOTES. 183 



Note 44, page 65. 

" Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, 
And merrily henl the stile-a : 
A merry heart goes all the day, 
Your sad tires in a mile-a." 

Note 45, page 66. 

•' I am sure It would please you to travel here in Virginia. Hos- 
pitality is a distinguishing trait of the people, rich or poor. And the 
polished manners and agreeable conversation ingratiate the traveller 
at once in their favor. The planters in this section are largely an 
educated class, — gentlemen in the best sense of the word. I pass 
many an evening at their hospitable homes. It is a school of man- 
ners next to travelling abroad. 

** The country is picturesque and inviting, alike for its past and 
present history. Yorktown, Williamsburg, and the shores of the 
Chesapeake are full of incidents for study. Pleasant to move from 
plantation to plantation, observing the various objects of interest 
that meet his eye, ruins and monuments of past times. If ' the 
thinking man lives two lives,' hei'e there is food for thought with 
every mile he travels. 

" It may interest you to learn that I passed a day with Dr. H., 
of Wolcott formerly, now living in Matthews County, where he mar- 
ried and practises his profession. Like some others bred at the 



1 84 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

North, who marry here, he retains his slaves and justifies the insti- 
tution. Nor dare I affirm that even yourself would resist the 
temptation to take the charming Virginian maiden with her dark 
possessions. 

" I wish you every success in your school, and a future of useful- 
ness." — Letter to VVni. A. A Icott, Norfolk, March 19, 1820. 

Note 46, page 67. 

A rainy day, too forbidding for travel, offered agreeable enter- 
tainment as it gave access to the planters' libraries, which were 
often volumhious and attractive. Of the books now remembered 
are those mentioned in the verses : Lavater's Physiognomy, illus- 
trated (the heads from which I copied into my journal) ; and 
"The Pilgrim's Progress" (in costlier editions than I had seen 
before) beguiled the rainy days. Locke's "Treatise on the Human 
Understanding" proved also interesting; and now and then a novel 
or a biography. 

Note 47, page 67. 

" William and Mary College was chartered in 1693, but the idea 
of such a college was talked of among the Virginia colonists almost 
as soon as they came. The college is next to the oldest American 
school of learning, and, if thoughts were deeds, it might be called 
the first. With no lack of money, with a favorable location, and 
with plenty of pov/erful friends at home and abroad, it flourished 



AOTES. 185 

finely until the guns of the Revolution sounded at its doors, and 
swept away its money and many of its friends. William and Mary 
was the school where were taught Thomas Jefferson, James Monroe, 
Chief- Justice Marshall, and many another noted man ; and it gave his 
surveyor's commission to young George Washington, whose figure 
was familiar in Williamsburg during a large part of his life, and 
who, in his last years, served the college as its Chancellor, or hon- 
orary head. Here, in 1776, was formed the Phi Beta Society of 
America." 

'* Nine miles east of Williamsburg lies York town, around which, 
in 1781, the combined French and American forces on land and sea 
so planned and fought as to dislodge Lord Cornwallis from the 
position he had chosen. It is now a small village containing about 
two hundred and fifty inhabitants, mostly fishermen and oyster- 
men. It lies on a bluff at a bend in the York River, whose mouth 
is ten miles distant. The river spreads out below the town into a 
broad and beautiful harbor. The historic buildings still standing 
are the Nelson House and the Court-House ; the former served as 
Lord Cornwallis's quarters during the siege. The Cornwallis Cave, 
cut out of the i-ock, is at the foot of the bluff." — Newspaper. 

The desolation of this ancient town, as I approached it by the 
Warwick road, passing by the field of the surrender, printed the 
sceneiy indelibly on my memory. And to revisit the spot after 
the many years intervening would be deeply interesting and im- 
pressive. 



1 86 NEW CONNECTICUT. 



Note 48, page 68. 

Among the wealthy and distinguished planters, at whose mansions 
I remember to have called, were the Tabbs and Taliaferros, Nelsons 
and Dabreys, living on the shores of York and North rivers. It was 
a continual surprise and wonder to the household by what stratagem 
I passed safely through the gates (guarded as these were by fierce 
mastiffs howling about my heels) and came to their doors. As I 
had no fear of the creatures, they seemed to take me as an accepted 
visitor, and affectionately escorted me thither. The only damage 
which I received was a slight rent made in my surtout skirts by the 
teeth of one of them. And I may add, that though I carried costly 
trinkets, my trunk was never robbed of its treasures. I usually set 
it by my bedside on retiring at night ; and before I slept the profits 
of the day's traffic were ascertained and recorded in my journal, with 
the amount of cash in my pocket-book. A scrap of this, with an 
entry or two, survives, and may be cited here : — 



January, 1820. 

Saturday^ I. At York town, tra^ 

Sunday, 2. With my brother, 

Monday, 3. I cross into Gloucester, 

Tuesday^ 4. My brother leaves me, • 

Wednesday, 5. In Gloucester County, 

Thursday, 6. Passed Gloucester C. House, 



Cash. 

led $5.48 $48.50 

7-50 54-50 
7-50 

8.00 62.00 

8. CO 70.00 

12.50 82.50 



NOTES. 187 

Friday^ 7. Met my brother on North River at 

Mr. Booth's, traded 8.00 90.00 

Saturday, 8. We cross the North River into 

Matthews County, traded 3.00 93.00 

Sunday, 9. At private entertainment. 
Monday, 10. At Thomas Ransom's on Back Creek. 
Tuesday, II. We return to Norfolk, traded 2.00 94.00 



Wednesday, 12. Pay J. T. Allyn for goods, ^75- 00 

Thursday, 13. Property received of Allyn, 168.05^ 



Friday, 14. Goods on hand, $375-<^ 

Saturday, 15. Engage passage to Northern Neck of Virginia. 

Note 49, page 69. 
The abolition of slavery had not, while I was travelling in these 
parts, become the absorbing question with the people from whom I 
received such graceful hospitalities. My host and hostess sometimes 
alluded with impatience to the annoyance of caring for and being 
served by those whom they held beneath them in every sense. I saw 
few open instances of cruelty, and was surprised at perceiving the 
kindest relations occasionally existing between mistress and maid. 
The elegant refinement and gracious courtesy, of which I was enam- 
ored at the time, doubtless covered from my eyes the iniquities of 
the system. I recall no instance of its defence by any one during 
my sojourn here among the first families dwelling in the most fertile 
lands bordering on the James and York rivers. 



i88 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Note 50, page 70. 

"Many of the young men employed in this business part at an 
early period with both modesty and principle : their sobriety is ex- 
changed for cunning, their honesty for imposition, and their good, 
decent behavior for coarse impudence. Mere wanderers, accus- 
tomed to no order, control, or worship, and directed solely to the 
acquisition of petty gains, they soon fasten upon this object, and 
forget every other of a superior nature. The only source of their 
pleasure or their reputation is gain, and that, hovi'ever small, or 
however acquired, secures both. No course of life tends more rap- 
idly or more effectually to eradicate every moral feeling." — Dwighfs 
Travels. 

[With the preceding Note (50) the printed Notes of Mr. Alcott 
end, and those which follow are made up by Mr. Sanborn from 
the Alcott Papers.] 

Note 51, page 73. 

The beginning of Part Third describes a voyage and land jour- 
ney taken by the two cousins, Bronson and William Alcott, in 
the autumn and winter of 1820-21. Beginning at New Haven, 
they sailed to Charleston, S. C, and thence travelled slowly up the 
country with the wagoners who carried their luggage. A full 
account of this adventure was printed many years afterwards by 



NOTES. 189 

Dr. Alcott, and is quoted below. A passage may here be quoted 
from Bronson Alcott's letter to his family in Wolcott, concern- 
ing the route from Charleston to Abbeville. He wrote thus : — 

" The teamsters carried our trunks in their large wagons, while 
we walked behind them. The streams were high ; there being no 
bridges, we forded them, and camped at night by fires on some 
dry spots by the roadside. The nights were frosty, and we found 
our bed of pine needles rather uncomfortable. Our Dutchmen 
were jocose in their way, and entertained us by their jokes and 
strange manners. Near Columbia we passed large fields of rice 
and indigo and cotton ; there were fires lighted in these, and the 
slaves were busy gathering the cotton, seen partly out of the pod. 
Newberry Court House is about 160 miles from Charleston, on the 
uplands. Here is the stand for pedlers in these parts. We pur- 
pose leaving to-morrow in pursuit of schools. On our way from 
Charleston we saw at the Rapids, on the Santee, some of our 
Wolcott friends, who had preceded us, and were at work on the 
Canal. In my next I hope to have some definite information to 
give you about our success or failure in finding schools for the 
season." 

The more detailed description given by Dr. Alcott is as fol- 
lows : — 

"No New-England boy ever deserved a happier home or kinder 
parents than I had. With them I lived and labored, cheerfully 
and happily, till I was almost as large as I am now. At last I 
began to grow uneasy. True, I was not tired of work, but I 



190 NEIV CONNECTICUT. 

wanted change. Besides, I had always, from my very childhood, 
been anxious to ramble. But my father, who wanted me on the 
farm, was unwilling to let me go. I became more and more 
determined to travel, and my father and all my friends more and 
more opposed to it. They said much to discourage me, but all 
to no purpose ; go I would, and go I did. My father at last con- 
sented, though with great reluctance ; and with his eyes suffused 
with tears, watched me, as, with another discontented young man 
of about the same age,i I went over the hill out of his sight, to 
throw myself upon a world of strangers. 

" South Carolina was the place I had in view. A vessel was 
about to sail from one of the seaports of Connecticut to Charles- 
ton ; and with ten dollars I procured a passage in the steerage, 
and was immediately floating over the smooth waters of Long 
Island Sound. But how was it about money for the payment of 
travelling expenses in general ? I have told you already that I 
procured a passage at the cheap rate of ten dollars. I had also 
twenty silver dollars more in my pocket, which my father had 
suffered me to earn for myself, — for he did not believe in actually 
giving boys money ; but what were twenty dollars to set out with 
on a journey of one thousand miles .'' 

" Our passage, though slow, was prosperous enough, at first. 

We had, indeed, a squally time in passing through Hurlgate. 

The waters foamed and roared and whirled among the rocks ; 

enough almost to frighten old sailors ; but we passed safely on, 

* His cousin, A. Bronson Alcott. 



DR. ALCOTT'S SOUTHERN TRIP. 191 

and were soon at the wharves in New York. There we were 
allowed to land, but charged not to stay long, as the vessel would 
sail again shortly. We returned several times, but the vessel 
continued at anchor ; and at last we grew careless, and being de- 
lighted in viewing the city, we stayed so long that we narrowly 
escaped being left on shore. Just at dark our captain set sail. 
But the wind was unfavorable, and we could not get out of the 
Bay. We tried a long time, — till near midnight, — when we gave 
it up, and anchored in a safe place till morning. 

" In the morning the wind was fair, and we set sail again. We 
soon lost sight of New York, Staten Island, Long Island, Sandy 
Hook, and New Jersey shore, and were in the main ocean. Not, 
however, till the vessel had struck on a sand-bar in passing out of 
New York Bay, and received some injury. 

" Trouble now arose. The passengers began to be sea-sick, 
and myself among the rest. By sunset nearly every one was con- 
fined to the steerage, where the paleness and heaving and vomit- 
ing of forty persons made the place seem more like a hospital 
than a sleeping-room. I slept little that night, as you may guess. 
But the wind blew strong, and wafted us on at the rate of ten miles 
an hour, at the least. This continued all the next day, so that by 
the second evening we were in the latitude of Cape Charles and 
Cape Henry, in Virginia. But we were not near them. We were 
a great way off, at sea; our captain having stood off from the 
land on purpose. 

"But I must tell you a little about our floating house, and the 



192 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

family with whom we boarded. The vessel was a schooner, — 
the ' Enterprise.' Our captain owned her, but was going to the 
South to sell her ; and so took passengers for Charleston to de- 
fray, in part, his expenses. The passengers were forty or fifty 
young men, most of whom were going to work on a canal near 
Columbia, S. C. The 'Enterprise' was a dull sailer, and when 
the wind was not fair, would hardly move. The officers were all 
very ignorant men, except one, and the captain would not hearken 
to him. Our provision was bad ; some of the meat was almost 
spoiled ; but if we complained to the captain, it only made him 
angry. Most of us put up with it and said nothing, especially as 
we were so dreadfully sea-sick that we did not wish to eat any- 
thing. Some, however, continued to complain, and this kept the 
captain in a fretful mood toward the whole of us. But what 
grieved me most was, that he would vent his displeasure toward 
us on the poor cabin-boy. Once I saw him seize him oy the collar 
of his jacket, and then kick him down from the quarter deck with 
such violence as to leave the jacket in his hand. 

" At evening, the second day of our voyage, the sea became very 
rough, and the wind blew from a less favorable quarter. But our 
vessel, though dull, was dry. As we had to make our way against 
the strong current, and the wind was unfavorable, we made little 
progress. Though I slept quietly enough this night, yet I rose 
once or twice and crept upon deck to view the ocean. What 
a scene 1 The vessel seemed to be actually ploughing her way 
through huge piles of red-hot coals and embers. To see water 



VOYAGE OF THE ALCOTTS. 193 

thus sparkling like fire was, to me, a most novel affair. Some 
naturalists say that the appearance is owing to small animals 
which, like the glowworm and fire-fly, are phosphorescent. 

" Sometimes the sea was calm, and then we used to amuse our- 
selves by looking at the dolphins, which came round the vessel as 
thick, almost, as a swarm of bees. These, you know, are among 
the most beautiful fish in the world. Several times, during our 
voyage, large schools of porpoises gambolled round the vessel, 
sometimes leaping so far out of the waves that we could see 
them in their entire length. They are a large fish, but rather 
clumsy-looking. 

" Birds, apparently much fatigued, sometimes alighted on our 
vessel. One was a hawk. He seated himself at mast-head, and a 
sly sailor went softly up the ropes and caught him in his hand. 
While sitting on deck one day, a small bird came and perched 
upon my knee. When I put out my hand to take it, away it flew, 
and alighted among the rigging. 

" The wind continued unfavorable, and we went on heavily. 
Many of the company spent their time in playing cards ; but for 
this I never had any relish. I never knew the names of a pack of 
cards in my life. As to reading, I found it difficult to read among 
such a crowd of passengers. To go upon deck and see the sun 
rise and set in the water afforded me but little pleasure. We had 
one amusement, however. There were musicians on board, and 
sometimes, in the evening, when the wind was not too violent, 
they used to go upon deck and play us a kind of serenade. 



194 NE^ CONNECTICUT. 

" At length we found ourselves in the latitude of Cape Hatteras, 
in North Carolina. This is a stormy place. Many sailors say 
they never passed it except in a thunder-storm ; and though 
it was the middle of October, it thundered and lightened when we 
passed it, but the storm was not severe. 

" After being out of sight of land ten days and eleven nights 
the captain told us we were not far from Charleston, and presently 
we saw a point of land. But so ignorant was our captain of the 
coast, that he did not know exactly where to steer for the harbor, 
and we were * off and on ' till it was near night ; and though the 
colors were set for a pilot, it was so late that none arrived, and we 
were soon enveloped in darkness. Nor was this the worst. A 
gale came on, and we were driven off the coast, a long way, toward 
Bermuda. But the wind abated, and after a day or two we found 
ourselves again approaching Charleston. Having procured a 
pilot, we were conducted safely into the harbor. 

" While we were in Charleston, gazing about alone, we were 
beset with many of those temptations to evil to which young men 
glowing with curiosity, who have never before visited a city, are 
peculiarly exposed. But we remembered a word of advice which 
we used to read in a celebrated school-book, * every one should mind 
his own business,* and gave heed to it ; and it was well we did. 
For thus, after being preserved by our kind Father in heaven 
from shipwreck at sea, we escaped a worse than shipwreck on the 
land I 

" But now we wished to go to Columbia, — about one hundred 



ARRIVAL IN CHARLESTON: 195 

and twenty miles to the northwestward. There were no stages ; and 
the steamboat which ran between the two places had to perform a 
very circuitous journey ; and besides, the fare was very high. There 
were many different roads ; but they all went through a flat, marshy 
country, much of which at this season was covered with water, 
sometimes to the depth of several feet. Those who attempted to 
walk found it difficult, and were, in some instances, obliged to 
swim. Besides, each of us had a travelling trunk, as well as 
other baggage. We finally adopted the following plan. 

"There were many countrymen in Charleston who had come 
down from the upper country to market with large wagons loaded 
with cotton, who made it their business to carry back such loading 
as they could obtain. But they seldom carried travellers them- 
selves. Indeed, there were usually no room nor accommodations. 
We could do no better than to put our baggage into their wagons 
and travel along with them, and fare as they did. Toward sun- 
set of the third day after our arrival in Charleston we set out on 
our journey. I was so feeble, after my long sea-sickness, that I 
could but just drag myself along; but my friend ^ was in better 
health, and did much to encourage me. 

" Our caravan made a very sorry appearance. It consisted of 
several wagons, — some drawn by mules, and others by horses. 
The wagons were very large and heavy, and covered with a coarse 
cloth. Each was under the care of two persons, a man and a 
boy. They were of Dutch descent, and lived near the Santee 
* Bronson Alcott. 



196 NEIV CONNECTICUT. 

River, beyond Columbia. Several pairs of horses or mules were 
harnessed to each wagon, and one beast to each wagon wore bells. 
One of the drivers — sometimes the boy, and sometimes the man — 
rode one of the horses, while the other trudged along on foot, at 
his side. My companion and myself followed behind, — now mus- 
ing on our condition, now, perhaps for the first time after we left 
home, casting a thought back to the land of our fathers. 

" It was growing dark. ' Where are we to put up ? ' asked my 
companion and I, as modestly as we could. — * We shall soon 
come to the camping-ground,' said our Dutchman. To the ' camp- 
ing-ground ' we accordingly soon came, — about five miles from 
Charleston. Our teams were driven into a large, thick pine 
grove, a little way from the roadside, where the ground was 
tolerably dry, and arranged in a sort of circle around a spot that 
looked like a place where they had been accustomed to burn 
charcoal. We soon learned that it was a spot where travellers 
were accustomed to lodge or encamp, and, when the weather was 
cold, to build fires. While part of the company unharnessed 
and fed the horses, the rest went in pursuit of fallen wood for 
fuel. They soon collected a quantity of dry pine, — lightwood, 
or lighfud^ as they called it, — and built a huge fire. Then they 
took from their wagons a kettle, and made some coffee, — for the 
Southern people, many of them, can hardly make a meal, as they 
imagine, without coffee. Having regaled themselves with corn- 
bread (hoe-cake) and bacon, and drank their coffee, the next 
thing was to prepare their beds. Each wagon carried a feather- 



I 



CAMPING IN CAROLINA. 197 

bed and a blanket. They spread the blanket on the ground and 
lay down upon it, and then coojered themselves with the bed. This, 
thought I, is an odd way of doing business ; but I soon found it 
was the custom of the Dutch people in that part of the country, 
generally, to sleep under the feather-bed instead of upon it. 

" You will wonder why these people slept out in the woods. 
It was for three reasons : First, there were no public-houses, or 
next to none, on the road. Second, it was so very sickly in this 
low country that autumn that it was almost impossible to get 
accommodations in a private dwelling. Third, the honest Dutch- 
men wanted to be economical and save their money. 

" While my companion and I were half disposed to smile at the 
oddity of their arrangements, the question came across our minds. 
Where are we to sleep ? We ventured to ask counsel of our 
Dutch friends. They would gladly have allowed us to sleep with 
them, but a single feather-bed would not serve as a covering for 
more than two persons. So they advised us to collect pine- 
needles — the dried leaves of the pine — and make ourselves a 
bed of them. Necessity compelled us to follow their advice, and 
we soon collected a large pile, and laid ourselves down for repose. 

" We rose early in the morning, not because we were suffi- 
ciently rested, but because it was time to prepare for our journey. 
After eating a few mouthfuls of breakfast, we went to the * spring * 
and drank some water. Almost all the water in this part of the 
United States is very bad, being muddy or half stagnant; and 
what the people call 'springs' are nothing but places in some 



19^ NEW CONNECTICUT. 

brook or creek where the water has motion enough to render it 
clear. We had taken a quantity of ginger with us to mix with our 
water to prevent its injuring our stomachs. 

" When our company and their horses and mules had break- 
fasted, and everything was in readiness, we resumed our jour- 
ney. When we first began to move, I was so weak that I thought 
I could not possibly walk a mile. But having dragged myself 
along one mile, I found myself no worse for it ; so I persevered 
through the day, and we travelled about twenty miles. Our 
course was through a flat country, half-wilderness and half-culti- 
vated, with here and there a small cotton or rice field, and occa- 
sionally, at long intervals, a house. We slept in the fields or 
woods five nights before we reached Columbia, and always by a 
fire composed of pine knots, logs, or limbs. 

" The greatest curiosities in all Carolina are the immense 
fields of cotton. A large field just ripe enough for picking — that 
is, when the pods are burst open — is a beautiful sight. Before 
we reached Columbia we saw fields containing several hundred 
acres, and the slaves were collecting it. The weather was chilly, 
and they had fires in the old stumps, which were smoking like so 
many chimneys, and the slaves were shivering round them. The 
colored people cannot bear the cold so well as the whites. 

" The country through which we passed was almost level till we 
were within a mile or two of Columbia. In some places it was so 
overflowed with water that we were obliged to wade a quarter of 
a mile at a time, at a depth of from two to twelve inches. Some- 



DR. ALCOTT'S SOUTHERN TRIP. 199 

times, however, we could avoid the water by walking on logs or 
fences, or by clinging to the wagons. But we nowhere found the 
water in the road deep enough for swimming. 

" We reached Columbia about noon. This is a pleasant place, 
being much more elevated than the rest of the country around it, 
and pleasantly laid out in squares. It is a plain of two or three 
miles in extent, sloping off gently on every side. The town was 
not large. I did not stay long in it. They were just at this time 
building a canal around the falls of the Saluda River, just above 
the town, and some of my Northern friends were at work there. 
So, in company with my travelling companion, I paid them a 
visit, and spent the night there. 

" We left our friends early in the morning, and proceeded west- 
ward, toward Newberry. Instead of a swampy, marshy country, 
or a mere succession of sand-hills, as it had been before, we now 
came into a pleasant hilly country, not unlike the Northern 
States. 

" We stopped during the night at a place called Spring Hill, — 
not at a public-house, for there was none there, — but with an 
aged Dutch physician, whose name was Adam Schmitz. He re- 
ceived us kindly ; gave us plenty of soup for supper, and a good 
feather-bed for a covering. We slept well, had soup again for 
breakfast, with a little sour milk and some cold Indian bread ; 
and after breakfast we proceeded on our journey. 

"This day we passed through Newberry. This is a decent 
little village, forty-three miles from Columbia, and nearly one 



200 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

hundred and sixty from Charleston. Here are a court-house 
and several shops and stores. Newberry was the only place, ex- 
cept Columbia and Granby, that could be called a village, which 
we had seen in South Carolina. 

" One thing used to amuse us, which was the school-houses and 
schools. In the midst of the woods, and often distant from any 
road, you would find a log school-house. In it you would see 
through the door or through the crevices between the logs a num- 
ber of boys stalking around, a few sitting out of doors, with their 
slates, and perhaps one or two others at the spring procuring 
water. 

" I said they were stalking about in the house, but some of 
them were sitting. Occasionally a class would be called out to 
spell. They did not spell very well, but we were most amused 
with their pronunciation. Q, they called ciife, as some people do 
at the North even now. Z, they called izzard, or eezzard. Thus 
in spelling * gizzard,' they would say g-i-izzard-Giz ; izzard-a-r-d- 
ZARD, GIZZARD. Some schools, it is true, were much better than 
others; and we sometimes found — perhaps once a week — a 
pretty good school-house. 

" The churches were little better than the school-houses. Like 
them they were often in the woods, made of logs, and had no floors. 
The seats were benches made of planks. They were usually 
small, — seldom accommodating more than two or three hundred 
people. It will of course be understood that I am speaking all 
this while of country places. In the cities and villages of the 



SOUTHERN RIVERS AND BRIDGES. 201 

Southern States they often have tolerably good buildings of every 
kind, especially churches. 

" There is one difficulty which travellers on foot in the Southern 
States are obliged to encounter, and it is a very serious one. 
There are seldom any bridges over the rivers and creeks, and 
footmen are often obliged to wade through these streams. At 
some places there are, indeed, ferries ; but at others there is 
nothing. 

" Though it was now about the middle of November, and 
consequently rather cold, we waded through several consider- 
able streams. The water, however, was usually shallow. Even 
the Neuse, in North Carolina, a considerable river, — though we 
crossed that in a boat, — was almost fordable. We waded through 
Lynch's Creek, Little Lyiich's Creek, Black River, and several 
smaller streams. 

" One night, sometime after dark, we came to a stream where 
there was neither ferry nor bridge, and we were uncertain about 
the depth of the water. Had it been daylight we might have 
judged pretty correctly in regard to it. We hesitated. We were 
anxious to go farther, as it was not very dark, and we were not 
yet very much fatigued ; and yet we dared not quite venture. So 
at last we went back a considerable distance to the next house. 

" Here we endeavored to gain admittance, but were attacked 
furiously by the dogs. At last, with the help of the slaves, we 
succeeded in getting into the house ; and after some hesitation, 
we were permitted to stay till morning. 



202 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" The family was large, and the house small. It had but one 
room, and, like many houses in that part of the Union, was 
without a floor. There were but three beds. One of them was 
occupied by the gentleman's son and ourselves, another by some 
of the children, and the third by the parents. The rest, with 
several young slaves, slept around the fire, which was at a remote 
corner of the room. 

" In the morning, after breakfast, the gentleman went with us 
to the creek, and taking us, one at a time, behind him on his horse, 
carried us safely across it. For all his trouble I do not remember 
that he charged us anything ; if he did, it was a mere trifle. The 
Southern people are very kind and hospitable to travellers. One 
reason may be that they see but few of them ; for they do not 
usually live near the roads, but at a distance in the fields, and 
strangers seldom call on them. 

" We were soon within the limits of North Carolina. We 
stopped, the first night after we arrived in that State, at Peter 
May's. * You can throw a rock from my porch into South Caro- 
lina,* said our good-natured landlord ; and so we could, for it 
was only a few rods. However, by a rock he only meant a small 
piece of rock, or a stojte. He only expressed himself according to 
the custom of the country. 

" From Peter May's we came on toward Fayetteville. There 
was little to be seen which interested us much, and I have, of 
course, little to describe. For many miles before we reached 
Fayetteville we went through a sandy and thinly-inhabited coun- 



NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA. 203 

try. Sometimes we travelled eight or ten miles without finding a 
single house. When we came to one, it was usually a miserable 
log hut, consisting of only one room, and without a floor. 

" Many of the people of this region are Scotch. They appear 
to be very poor. The best food we could usually get was Indian- 
corn bread, or as they call it, * hoe-cake,' venison, a little honey, 
and a tumbler of sour milk. The latter, however, was intended, 
not for food, but for drink. 

" At length we reached Fayetteville. It was pleasing to see a 
* town ' once more. Fayetteville, at that time, contained three 
thousand five hundred inhabitants and many very good buildings. 
Among these were a court-house, a town house, an academy, a 
masonic hall, three banks, and three houses for public worship. 
But most of these buildings, together with most of the dwellings, 
have been destroyed since that time by a great fire, though the 
place has been in part rebuilt. The town is regularly and hand- 
somely laid out, and the principal streets are one hundred feet 
wide, — that is, as wide as the south part of Washington Street, in 
this city (Boston), which everybody who has seen it knows to be 
one of the finest streets in the country. 

" We did not stay long in Fayetteville. We crossed the Cape 
Fear River on a fine bridge about a mile from Fayetteville. The 
river here is very dark-colored, and apparently very deep ; but it 
is 1 ather narrow. It is, however, a noble river. Steamboats come 
up here from Wilmington, which is eighty or a hundred miles 
below. 



204 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" The next place of any note which we saw was Tarborough. 
It stands on the Tar River, and contains perhaps one hundred 
houses ; but it does not appear to be flourishing. It is about 
sixty miles eastward of Raleigh. 

*' We arrived in Norfolk, which, as you know, stands on 
Elizabeth River, about eight miles from its entrance into Hamp- 
ton Roads, and contains about ten thousand inhabitants. At the 
time of our arrival, however, it contained only eight thousand five 
hundred. It is not a city, but is a borough. It contains several 
churches, two or three banks, a theatre, a marine hospital, an 
academy, an orphan asylum, and an Athenaeum. It also contains 
many good dwelling-houses, especially in the northern part of the 
borough ; but the houses generally are not elegant, and some of 
the streets are low and dirty. 

" Well, we were in Norfolk ; but where should we go ? I was 
not quite destitute of money ; I had about thirty dollars. If we 
went to an expensive public-house to stay, however, this would 
not last long, and as yet we knew of no employment by means of 
which we could earn anything more. We asked ourselves and 
each other again and again where we should go. At last we 
decided. 

'* There lived in the borough, in one of the lower and more 
dirty streets, an elderly gentleman from the North, who kept a 
grocery store and a few boarders. He was a kind old gentleman, 
but not very respectable, — though I did not know the last cir- 
cumstance till some time afterward. My friend knew it, but. 



NORFOLK IN 1820. 205 

destitute of money as he was, he seemed to overlook it. After 
some deliberation we concluded to board with the old gentleman, 
whom, for the present, I shall call Mr. Brown." 

This description by Dr. Alcott seems to have been written 
before 1850; and, of course, long before the Civil War, which 
raged about several of the towns traversed by the two cousins in 
1820. 

Note 52, p. 77. 

The following letter from Bronson Alcott describes the journey 
from South Carolina to Virginia : — 

" Norfolk, Dec. 5, 1820. 
" Dear Parents, — You will be surprised on reading this letter 
to learn we are here in Norfolk (instead of Carolina), and thinking 
of taking to peddling, rather than teaching, as hoped when we 
left home. But on finding that employment likely to prove un- 
profitable, we made the best of our way across North Carolina to 
this old stand in Norfolk. We were fourteen days on the road, 
walking all the way, and sending our trunks round hither by 
water. I had hoped never to undertake peddling again, but 
it seemed our best resource under the present circumstances, and 
now that we are here. The business is new to my companion 
(William A. Alcott) ; but he acquiesces, and will try his hand at it 
instead of teaching, in which he has been so successful at the 
North. We purpose leaving here in a day or two, taking my 



2o6 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

familiar route by Hampton, Yorktown, Gloucester, and the North- 
ern counties. My cousin, Thomas, is now here in Norfolk. I 
wrote from Newberry Court House, which I trust you have 
received." 

In a note written many years later, Mr. Alcott says : — 

" I find Norfolk was first incorporated as a town in October, 
1705, in the fourth year of Queen Anne. It then had a consider- 
able population, its position being favorable for trade. St. Paul's 
Church, giving name to the street on which it stands (Church 
Street), is an antique structure, with its graveyard facing the street. 
Near this church was the pedler's stand of the Tisdales, from 
Southington, Conn." 

This makes Norfolk a modern town in comparison with some 
of the Virginia settlements. Among those visited by young 
Alcott was Smithfield, of which he says : — 

" One of the oldest churches now existing in the United States 
is that near Smithfield, Isle of Wight County, Va. It was built 
in the reign of Charles I., between the years 1630 and 1635. The 
brick, lime, and timber were imported from England. The timber 
is English oak, and was framed in England ; the structure is of 
brick, erected in the most substantial manner; the mortar has 
become so hardened that it will strike fire in collision with steel. 
This church is now {1882) deserted, in the depth of the forest ; but 
its mason-work, where not exposed to rain, is perfectly sound. 
There is a lofty tower, and the walls are overgrown with a deli- 
cate network of vines." 



DATES AND EVENTS. 20 7 

GENERAL NOTE TO PART THIRD. 
At this point, in order to fix the succession of dates, and reca- 
pitulate what has gone before, as well as what is to follow, the 
Autobiographical Index made by Mr. Alcott about 1850 may well 
be cited, for the first six-and-twenty years of his life : — 

DATES AND EVENTS. 

*' 1799. November 29. Born at my grandfather's. Captain John 
Alcock's, in what was once Farmingbury Society, now Wolcott 
township, New Haven County, Conn. 

" 1 801- 1804. Live at Potucko's Ring, near my grandfather's. 
In 1801 my brother, Chatfield, born. 

" 1805. Live at Colonel Richards', near Potucko's Ring. My 
sisters Pamela and Pamila (twins) born. I go to school in Baby- 
lon district, a mile distant. 

" 1806-13. Live at Spindle Hill, or New Connecticut, my 
father purchasing a place near my grandfather's. Engage in 
farming and in my father's shop ; also in studies at home and in 
the district school, which I leave at the age of thirteen. Learn to 
write with chalk on the kitchen-floor. Read * Pilgrim's Progress ' 
and 'Robinson Crusoe.' In 1812 began keeping a diary. My 
companion and school-mate is William A. Alcox, and we organize 
a juvenile library. Meanwhile are born my sisters Betsy and 
Phebe. 

" 1813 {autumn). Live a month at Cheshire with my uncle, Til- 
lotson Bronson, D. D, First see New Haven City and the Sound. 



2o8 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" 1814. Live at Ireland, in Plymouth, near Spindle Hill, and 
work at clock-making. Continue my diary, and begin an episto- 
lary correspondence with William Alcox. Read Young's * Night 
Thoughts ' and Milton's * Paradise Lost ; ' also read and transcribe 
portions of Burgh's * Dignity of Human Nature.' 

" 181 5. January. Work at clocks in Bristol. 

" February and March. Go to school to Rev. John Keyes, on 
Wolcott Hill. Begin to read prayers and sermons to the Epis- 
copalian congregation at Spindle Hill school-house on Sundays. 

" May and June. Hand-peddling with my cousin, Thomas 
Alcox, into Western Massachusetts. Saw Newgate and the States' 
prison. 

"■September and October. Get subscribers for John Flavel's 
* Keeping the Heart ' in Western Connecticut and Duchess County, 
New York. 

" 1 81 6. In the spring distribute Flavel to the subscribers ; in 
the autumn (seventeen years old) examined and approved as a 
school-teacher. 

" 1817. Engage, as heretofore, in farming and studies at Spin- 
dle Hill. Have now borrowed and read all the books (down to 
the almanacs and flying stationers' leaves) that are to be had 
in the neighborhood for many miles round. Continue my diary 
and my correspondence with my cousin William, and of eve- 
nings we meet sometimes and 'cipher.' Reading the service 
continues at the school-house on Spindle Hill and at Babylon on 
Sundays. 



DATES AND EVENTS, 209 

" 1817. October. Live this month with my grandfather, Captain 
Amos Bronson, at Riverside, in Plymouth, who was my godfather, 
and gave me his name. 

" 1818. At home I assist in the farming and in plow and bas- 
ket making, with private studies. In October I sail from New 
Haven for Norfolk, Va. Fail of teaching, and begin travelling 
into the districts about Norfolk peddling, reading at the planta- 
tions, sometimes repairing a clock, and note my experience in my 
diary. Return to Spindle Hill in May, 1819, bringing $80 to my 
father. My brother James bom during my absence. 

" 1819. June 12. My father raises a new house on the site of 
the old one, in which we had lived since 1806. The family live 
this summer in the shop. The old house was one and a half 
stories, unpainted, with three rooms on the ground-floor, besides 
a pantry and the * lean-to.' The chamber was one unpartitioned 
store-room; the cellar entrance was through a trap-door in the 
kitchen-floor. The kitchen was the largest and 'living' room, 
the place of all work, — cooking, eating, spinning, dyeing, etc. ; 
also for sitting and for my studies, — such as they were. 

** November 18. Sail from New Haven with my brother Chat- 
field for Virginia, and engage in travelling and hand-peddling, 
as before, in the districts surrounding Norfolk. (My brother 
returns to Spindle Hill in May with I65.) I read Lavater's 
* Physiognomy,' and Locke's * Conduct of the Understanding.' 
Come near being drowned in the James River near Williams- 
burg while bathing; my companion, J. Cook, a pedler, being 



2IO NEW CONNECTICUT. 

drowned. July 28, 1820, I return home with ^100 for my father, 
and engage in farming. 

" 1820. My brother Ambrose born. I study geography and 
arithmetic with William A. Alcox. October 8, I sail with him 
for Charleston ; passage seventeen days. 

" November 2. At Newberry Court House, S. C, seeking school- 
teaching. 

** December 5. At Norfolk, Va., and about, peddling again, — 
my companion with me. We have walked the distance from 
Charleston to Newberry, and thence to Norfolk, since October 

25- 

*' 1821. Febrttary and March. Sick in Norfolk with typhus 
fever. 

** April. William leaves Norfolk for Connecticut. 

" June. I leave Norfolk with Thomas Alcox, travelling by way 
of the Northern Necks, Alexandria, Washington, Baltimore, and 
Philadelphia, to New York City ; there purchase a costly suit of 
clothes, — the best in Broadway ,1 — and wear the same, to the sur- 
prise of my towns-people and the chagrin of my father and my 
cousin William, to Spindle Hill, where I arrive in July. Read 
Thomson's ' Seasons,' and journalize in the spirit of this period 
of 'gayety and extravagance. Now begin to write my name 
' Alcott,* instead of * Alcox,' as my father wrote his ; the old 
spelling being ' Alcock,' and so my grandfather wrote, and some 
of my uncles still. 

* See pages 88-90. 



DATES AND EVENTS. 2ii 

" 182 1. September. My father indorses my notes to J. T. Allyn, 
of Norfolk, for $270, due him for goods.i 

*' October. Leave home with Thomas Alcox and my brother 
Chatfield, for Virginia, driving wagons bought at Berlin, Ct., 
with goods purchased at Meriden (on credit), and some clocks 
also, — my father giving the horse. We journey South by land.^ 
Am at Alexandria in November, at Norfolk, Jan. 7, 1822, and 
ride on horseback thence on a silver speculation. The costly 
coat scorns peddling, and sinks money fast. Am at Richmond, 
March 21. Peddling will never do, — neither pleasure nor profit 
therein. 

*« 1822. April 7. At Norfolk, J. T. Allyn takes a bill of sale of 
my horse, wagon, and goods on account ; and on the 12th of April I 
am at Warrenton, N. C, teaching penmanship, with fifteen pupils ; 
terms, $3. I read here Goldsmith's * Vicar of Wakefield,' and 
Johnson's ' Rasselas.' 

" June. Walk from Warrenton through the States to Spindle 
Hill. I sleep one night in a tobacco house in Maryland, and 
come, unshod, from Amboy to New York City on board the 
steamer. Reach home with a sixpence only in my pockets, and 
many penifences at heart. 

" July^ August, Septeinber. Labor on the farm, and study ; also 
read the service on Sundays. In October my cousin William 
writes me a letter of e.xpostulation which touches me tenderly, and 

* Up to this time his sons had paid him $245 for their Virginia profits. 
^ See the Journal of Chatfield Alcott, on pages 229-234. 



212 A'£;r coxNECTicur. 

I resolve to do penance for my follies by tr\-ing peddling once 
more, with hopes of retrieving my fallen fortunes. 

•' October 29, Leave home with Thomas Alcox, and journey 
by land to North Carolina ; Thomas furnishing horse, wagon, and 
goods. I take a license for trading in Chowan Count}*, N. O 

" 1823. January I. In Norfolk after goods. In Februar)', 
while I am in North Carolina, J. T. Allyn's store was burnt, with 
his partner, Talbot, whose ashes were found and deposited in an 
urn with funeral honors. 

** March and April. Have a good deal of intercourse with Friends 
in Chowan and Perquimans Counties. Read Penn's 'No Cross, 
No Crown,' Barclay's * Apolog}-,' Fox's * Journal,' Clarkson's 
'Portraiture of Quakerism,' William Law's 'Devout Call,' and 
other serious books of like spirit. Copy passages into my diary. 
The moral sentiment now supersedes peddling, clearly and finally. 

" May. Ill with ague and fever at my friend Jeremiah Mixon's, 
near Edenton, N. C. In June I sail from Norfolk for New York, 
and reach home early in July, sallow and spiritless. Debts, 
I600.2 

*' 1823. August, September, October. At home, reading Cowper's 
Poems, Hervey's * Meditations,' and the New Testament. In 
November am examined and approved as teacher for three months 

* He had evidently been among the Quakers here in 1S21-22. 

^ It seems, then, that the five years' experiences in Virginia and the Carolinas 
cost the young scholar the net sum of $420, — something less than a college course 
at New Haven would then have cost ; but they were to him a liberal education. 



DATES AND EVENTS. 213 

in the Fall Mountain district, in Bristol, three miles from Spindle 
Hill, — wages, $10 per month and board. 

"1824. March. Review my studies at home. In April, walk to 
Paris, near Utica, N. Y. (where my brother Chatfield was living), 
in hopes to engage in teaching in that neighborhood, but am 
driven home again by an attack of ague and fever, to pass a shiftless 
summer at my father's. In the autumn, teach a private class in 
penmanship on Wolcott Hill (terms, $1 per course); and in No- 
vember begin a five months' term -as teacher at the West-Street 
school, in Bristol; wages, $15 a month and board about the 
district. 

" 1825. Aprils May, and June, At Dr. Bronson's, in Cheshire. 
I act as secretary to him in editing the ' Churchman's Magazine ; ' 
and in September canvass for subscribers in Western Connecticut. 
Here, at my uncle's, I read Butler's ' Analogy,' Reid and Stewart's 
Metaphysics, Watts's 'Logic,' and Dwight's ' Theology.' 

" In July and August I am at home to assist in the haying and 
harvesting. In November I begin teaching the Cheshire Centre 
district school, — boarding at my uncle's, Dr. Bronson's, — my 
wages $18 a month. I read Vattel's ' Law of Nations ; ' and in 
December visit my friend, William A. Alcott, — now a student in 
the medical school at Yale College, — and purchase books for a 
school library." 

This brings Mr. Alcott to the age of twenty-six, and the suc- 
cessful beginning of his ten years' course as a schoolmaster. 



214 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Note 53, pp. 81, 82. 

Letters of Bronson Alcott's in several years may illustrate this 
passage, and the details of his life as a pedler : — 

" Norfolk, Virginia, November 30, 1818. 

" Honored and dear Parents, — Separated from you by a dis- 
tance of near five hundred miles, imagination still pictures to itself 
the festive board and cheerful fireside around which, animated by 
your presence and that of my brothers and sisters, I have passed 
many happy moments ; and though now deprived of this pleas- 
ure, I am quite well and contented. Something of chilliness, I 
must confess, affected me on taking leave of you, along with the 
feeling that I was not encouraged by either of you in my adven- 
ture. But my resolution being formed, I persisted even against 
your wishes, and thus far have no reason to regret it. I trust 
you will not attribute this to youthful curiosity, or a roving 
disposition. 

" We set sail from New Haven on Tuesday, the 13th of October, 
at II o'clock, A. M., in the sloop 'Three Sisters,' Captain Sperry, 
and reached New York on Wednesday noon. The wind being 
ahead, we lay off New York till Friday, the i6th, when we set sail 
at sunset, and on Tuesday, October 20th, reached Norfolk, making 
a passage of about seven days. I was sea-sick during most of the 
passage, and took but little food. The captain was kind, and made 
me as comfortable as possible. There were fifteen passengers, 
mostly pedlers and workmen for Tisdale. The sloop was heavy 



PEDDLING IN VIRGINIA. 215 

laden with produce destined for the Norfolk market. My first 
care on arriving at Norfolk was to find board and lodging, and as 
the 'Three Sisters' would lie at the wharf some days, for dis- 
charging her cargo, the captain allowed me to take my meals and 
sleep on board for a few days, till I should find better accommoda- 
tions. Mr. Tisdale offered me employment and board and lodg- 
ings at his place of business, by which I was enabled to discharge 
my obligations to Captain Sperry, and leave the sloop. My pas- 
sage money was eight dollars. While engaged as an accountant 
with Tisdale, a gentleman from the country informed me that I 
might obtain a school in his neighborhood, where young men from 
the North were frequently employed as teachers. As teaching 
was my object in coming South, I set out accordingly on foot for 
Kemps ville, distant about twenty miles from Norfolk, and applied 
for a school. The parents were friendly, and about twent}' schol- 
ars were promised ; I was to teach for three months, at five dollars 
a quarter for each scholar, and, if my services were approved, to 
continue for the year or more. But on application for board and 
lodging I found no one could accommodate me, and I returned, 
after making further inquiries for school-keeping in the surrounding 
country. As the plan of teaching seemed to be impracticable, I 
began on the 12th of November peddling about the city, purchasing 
my tin-wares of Tisdale at his shop on Church Street. The busi- 
ness is profitable, and I am still pursuing it till something more 
desirable offers. Peddling is not what I came for and desired, but 
I am unwilling to be idle meanwhile. 



2i6 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" I wish you would write how your crops come in, whether you 
purpose building a new house in the spring, and how my friend 
William Alcox succeeds in his school-keeping. I wish my brother 
would also write, and if he can be spared, attend Mr. Keyes' school 
for a quarter at least. 

" I have the privilege of attending church on Sundays, and on sev- 
eral evenings during the week. I generally attend some of these. 
There is but one other person at Tisdale's who accompanies me. 
I think religion is less cared for here than with us. The Sabbath 
is kept less strictly, and, I am sorry to find, no better by Northern 
people than by Southern people. 

" It is now late and my paper is full. Forgive, dear parents, my 
faults, and accept the love of your unworthy son, 

"Amos B. Alcox.'* 



" Norfolk, February 14, 1819. 

"Honored Parents, — I have this day received your affec- 
tionate letter of the 22nd of January, and read it with emotions of 
pleasure and satisfaction; particularly the account you give of 
your health and family affairs, and that you are so well disposed 
concerning my absence. I trust I shall be able to contribute my 
mite towards the expenses of the new house, though I may be dis- 
appointed in my winter earnings. I am well, and have enjoyed 
myself as well as I could have done in farm labors at home ; never 
have four months been more happily passed. Money is more 



i 



PEDDLING IN VIRGINIA. 217 

readily acquired here than at home, — a dollar as easily as a 
quarter there, and may be as easily spent. But I have kept in 
mind the lessons which I have received, respecting frugality and 
economy, from my father. 

" You will wish to learn further of my present employment and 
prospects. I left Tisdale January 27, and began peddling fancy 
articles, which I find more profitable and pleasant. I returned 
last night from my first trip into Princess Anne County. I was 
gone sixteen days, during which time my sales amounted to $111, 
and at a good profit, I think I may continue in this business 
till June, but will return sooner if you wish my assistance about 
the spring farming. When I left Tisdale and settled my affairs 
with him, I found my profits for the two and half months were $65. 
Selling fancy articles is more agreeable than tin-wares about the 
city. I hope to return to assist you about building of the new 
house. I trust my winter's employment will prove a school of in- 
struction to me, as you, dear father, suggest in your last. I am 
confident, indeed, of its having been such, and in matters which 
you have so frequently urged upon me, — namely, ambition and 
perseverance, — without which (and industry), men seldom ac- 
quire wealth. I think of you all daily, and particularly of my 
little brother, with whom I parted so tenderly. My thanks to 
dear mother and my brothers and sisters for their writing so 
particularly. 

" The winter thus far has been very mild and pleasant, only one 
or two snows and a few days of severe cold. But there have been 



2l8 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

frequent rains, and variable weather, rendering the walking muddy 
and unpleasant for the time. 

" You all have a grateful place in my remembrance. 
" Your affectionate son, 

"Amos B. Alcox." 

"Norfolk, January, 1820. 
" Dear Parents, — We have received your letter dated Decem- 
ber 28. To hear that you were all well, prosperous in your affairs, 
enjoying the fruits of your industr}-, I need not assure you, gave 
us much pleasure. Our thanks are due to the Author of all good 
gifts for such blessings. We have had fair success in our busi- 
ness thus far, although the times are called ' hard ' here in the 
Old Dominion. I trust we shall make a profitable winter's work 
for you. Our profits from sales average about one third per cent 
(33^), exclusive of our travelling expenses, which are slight, — 
indeed, very little, save when we stay at the public-houses. At 
my last trip along the James and York rivers I sold goods to the 
amount of $150, and we are now here to renew our stock. 
Wherever we travel we are treated with respect and most hos- 
pitably entertained by the planters. Would you have a pict- 
ure ? With our trimks at hand or * toting ' them at our side, 
we find our way into the planters' houses, and find the inmates 
pleased to look inside of our box of trinkets ; and they seldom 
allow us to leave without putting gold and silver into our hands. 
I take much satisfaction in conversing with the courtly planters 



PEDDLING IN VIRGINIA. 219 

and their families. It offers a fine school for the study of man- 
ners, and I gain information, as I pass along my tour, that books 
could not have given. I wish to make my part respectable, and 
though peddling is not the calling I would have chosen, I am 
partly reconciled to it, for the benefits I gain in other particulars. 
Honor, integrity, and perseverance are respectable in the humblest 
of circumstances. We left home to assist our parents, and have 
not repented of the choice. 

*' Your obedient son, 

"Amos B. Alcox." 



"Norfolk, March 17, 1S20. 

" Honored Parents, — Your letters dated January 1 5 and 24 
February are received. They came to us on our return here after a 
five weeks' trip into the country. You need have no concern for 
us, for we meet with many (almost) fathers and mothers in our 
travelling. The planters are hospitable, kind, and sociable. I 
love to travel here in Virginia ; it is a school of infinite value, and 
my brother is already much improved in his manners by his inter- 
course with better society than he has been accustomed to meet 
hitherto. 

" Our business is becoming more profitable and extensive. I re- 
plenished our trunks yesterday with $500 worth of goods, and we 
purpose going in a few days to the Eastern Shore of Virginia, ex- 
pecting to be gone from Norfolk six or seven weeks. On our 



2 20 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

return we shall hope to find letters from you, and then you shall 
hear further from us. 

*' Your dutiful sons, 

"Amos B. Alcox. 

"Chatfield Alcox." 

To W. A. Alcott 

" Norfolk, March 19, 1820. 
"Dear Friend, — Agreeably to promise I now write, and am 
happy in informing you of my present good health and spirits, and 
to express my cordial good wishes for your welfare. . . . The 
times are called *hard' here in the Old Dominion, but, from 
what I learn, are better than in the 'land of steady habits.' 1 
Yet if the pedlers from that section of the country are calculating 
on large profits this season, they must manage their affairs with 
prudence and economy, or they will fall far short of any anticipa- 
tion of that kind. Considering the times, we are as successful as 
we expected to be. Wind and weather favoring, we take passage 
to-morrow for the Eastern Shore of Virginia, expecting to be ab- 
sent from Norfolk six or seven weeks. We take goods worth 
about 1^500, which we purchase of the firm of Allyn and Anderson 
with the privilege of returning what we do not sell. Pedlers have 
become so numerous here that the late Virginia legislature passed 
an act imposing a tax of $80 on pedlers of dry goods, and of ^40 

* Connecticut was so called. 



PEDDLING IN VIRGINIA. 221 

on tin-pedlers, — the act to be enforced on the ist of next May. 
Whether hand-pedlers like myself and brother will be called upon 
for a license, I wait to learn. 

" . . . I am not sure of my time of returning to the North ; prob- 
ably not till some time in the summer. I certainly am enjoying 
my life here. Remember me to the young people of my acquaint- 
ance, and may we soon meet again ! 

" Sincerely yours, 

"A. B. Alcox." 

" Norfolk, July 3, 1820. 

" Dear Parents, — Returning to Norfolk yesterday, I had the 
satisfaction to find a letter from you, bearing date June 15, and I 
answer it at once. I am in excellent health, and * heartier ' than 
is usual with me at this season of the year. I wish this may find 
you so, with all other comforts suitable to your age and condition 
in life. It is now July, and the heat has not been oppressive as 
yet. The season is more forward here than in Connecticut. I 
find by a memorandum of mine, we had, 

May 12, ripe Strawberries. 

" 20, green Peas. 
June 4, new Potatoes. 

" 13, Cucumbers. 

" 20, ripe Apples. 

" 25, Blackberries. 

" 28, Whortleberries. 



2 22 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

And the farmers are now weeding their com the second time, and 
reaping their wheat and oats. Once in a while, on passing a corn- 
field, I am tempted to take the hoe (the huge Guinea hoe), and 
show the slaves how the Yankees use it ; and how to use the axe 
also in chopping wood. They civilly own themselves beaten. 

" I am now selling goods at wholesale, having left my trunk ped- 
ling, going by water from place to place, and trading with the mer- 
chants. I have been at Hampton, York, Smithfield, and purpose 
leaving for Williamsburg in a day or two. To-morrow I attend 
the Celebration of American Independence in this borough. 

" I hope to sail for New York by the 28th of this month. 
" Your affectionate son, 

"Amos B. Alcox." 

It was not until 182 1 that Bronson Alcott and his cousin wrote 
their names in its present form, as mentioned on a preceding 
page. 

Note 54, p. 83. 

The journeys of the Alcotts often took them through or near 
the so-called " Dismal Swamp," which Moore had seen and sung 
twenty years before. They found it not as he pictured it, but a 
pleasant, though solitary, region. Instead of being a receptacle 
into which streams flow, it is in reality an immense reservoir that, 
in its vast, sponge-like bulk, gathers the waters that fall and pours 



PEDDLING IN VIRGINIA. 223 

them into five different rivers. The swamp is entirely'of green 
timber. The two principal woods are the juniper and cypress, 
which fall prone on the ground like other trees, but instead of the 
wood decomposing it turns into peat, and lies for ages perfectly 
sound. There is nothing in the swamp to create miasma ; no rising 
of the tides and decomposition of rank vegetation ; no marshes 
exposed to the burning rays of the sun. All is fresh and sweet ; 
and the air is laden with as sweet odors as the fragrant woods in 
May, when the fragrance of the flowers mingles with the pungent 
scent of the pine and dogwood. The air is pure, and the water — 
tinged to a faint wine hue by the juniper — is as potent a medici- 
nal drink as is to be found at the famous watering-places of 
Virginia. It was often used by vessels going on a foreign cruise 
on account of its healthful properties, and also because it keeps 
fresh and clear for years. 

Note 55, p. 84. 

The diary of William Alcott gives the following account of this 
illness, and the letter of April 3, 1821, continues the story. 

Extract from William A. Alcotfs Diary. 

"^^February 16, 1821. I arrived in Norfolk from Hampton, imme- 
diately went to D. Barnes's, our lodgings in Water Street, and to 
my great mortification found my friend Amos very ill in his bed. 
I attended to him a little and then retired to rest. 



224 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

"Sunday, i8th. Amos no better, with severe pains in the head. 
I attended his bed, as did also R. Bumham. Watched with him 
this night. 

" Monday, February 19. I remitted to J. T. Allyn $54 cash ; also 
attended friend Amos, who was no better. We gave him some 
medicine, and on the morning of the 20th sent for Dr. Selden, who 
came and gave him a dose of camomile and jalap. He came a 
second time and concluded to send a young man to bleed him, 
which was accordingly done. Toward evening the Doctor came 
again, and afterwards sent a few papers of cooling powders. 

" Sunday, February 25. My friend continues insane ; he has, how- 
ever, rested rather better than usual the last night, and I yet enter- 
tain strong hopes of his recovery. Ten days of fever have been 
worn away already. 

" February 26. Amos appears more composed in mind and body ; 
but he is still very sick ; his fever, which the Doctor calls typhus, is 
violent, but less so than yesterday. I still hold out in health and 
spirits. 

" February 28. Amos is so much better that I begin to think of 
peddling again. 

" March I. I wTOte a letter to his father to-day. 

"Sunday, March 4. I heard Bishop Moore at Christ Church. 

"March 12. I continued attending Amos not only this day, but 
also the 14th, 15th, and i6th." 



ILLNESS AT XORFOLK. 225 

Mr. Alcott's own letter to his mother was as follows : — 

Norfolk, April 3, 1S21. 

" Dear Parents, — Your letters of the i8th February' and March 
18 came duly to hand. The former I did not know much of till 
since my recover}'. William read it to me during my illness, but it 
made little impression, in my feeble and wandering condition, and 
now seems fresh and new to me as I read it. My disease was t}-phus ; 
and my fever ran its usual course, confining me to my room for 
twent}--five days, and leaving me feeble and much emaciated. But 
I am gaining fast, and am now able to walk without support, and 
have a strong appetite withal. Dr. Selden, a kind and skilful phy- 
sician, attended me ; he is most reasonable in his charges. And 
most fortunately too, my good friend William took the best care of 
me during the whole time ; watching night after night, with only 
occasional relief, and this too while suffering from most distressing 
intelligence from home, — the death of a dear sister, and of his 
grandfather. I can never repay him for his kindness, nor be suffi- 
ciently thankful in being blessed with so good and generous a 
friend. And I am spared to bless Him 'in whose hand our 
breath is,' for His gracious favor in raising me from this bed of 
helplessness to comparative strength, and desire to ser\-e Him in 
the future. I am not sure that William informed you of the danger 
till my fever abated and I began to recover. I remember request- 
ing him to write to you. 

" I am happy, dear mother, to learn of your returning health. 



226 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

I now know what sickness is, myself, and can prize health as never 
before. 

" My hand is yet unsteady, as you will perceive by my hand- 
writing. 

" Your affectionate son, 

" Amos B. Alcox. " 

Bronson Alcott wrote thus to his cousin William in March, 
1823 : — 

"My dear Friend and Cousin, — I am fortunately fallen 
upon a good class of people dwelling here in the counties of 
Chowan and Perquimans, N. C. Their plain manners and kind 
dispositions are interesting to me, affording, as they do, a lively 
contrast to the courtly manners and culture of the Virginians 
at whose houses we were entertained. I find in their scanty 
libraries books which I have read with much profit and pleasure, 
— William Penn's ' No Cross, no Crown,* William Law's ' Seri- 
ous Call,' Barclay's * History of Friends,' Fox's * Journal,' Tuke's 
volume, Cowper's * Poems,* and other books of a serious charac- 
ter. If I were bent on saving my soul, these volumes would be a 
most wholesome incentive to that result. I do not mean by this 
remark that I am disposed to accept in this respect the saying, 
sometimes quoted by pedlers, that * peddling is a hard place to 
serve God, but a capital one to serve Mammon.' I find I have 
not served either to the best advantage, and wish I may find the 
grace to amend my ways. I have enjoyed some of the pleas- 
ures and profits of travelling, along these sandy roads, and in the 



FORTRESS MONROE. 227 

society of this simple people, living here beside their juniper 
forests, in the midst of their pastures and fields, their flocks and 
herds, and their old orchards. 

" I have little to add concerning myself, unless it be restoration 
to a degree of health and spirits for which I trust I am grateful. 
Your acquaintances in Norfolk were well, and merry as ever when 
I last saw them there." 



Note 56, p. 85. 

Mr. Alcott's travels sometimes led him in sight of the then new 
Fortress Monroe, since so famous, and of which the history is thus 
given in his notes : — 

" * Poynt Comfort ' was so named by the first settlers because 
its friendly shelter 'put them in good comfort ' when driven there 
for safety during a severe gale. Newport News was first known 
as ' Pernt Hope,' pernt being assumed to be a corruption of the 
Celtic /^« (promontory). The * Po)mt ' was originally an island, 
and is now, when the heavy easterly storms drive the sea over 
the strip of beach that unites it with the main-land. As early 
as 1608 a fort was there, which appears to have been a temporary 
affair, as in 1692 it was decided by the Colonial Assembly of 
Virginia that Captain Samuel Mathews should undertake the 
"raysing of a ffort at Poynt Comfort." The Soldiers* Home 
now stands on a plantation known as ' Fortfield,' from the work 
there located more than two centuries and a half ago. Twelve to 



2 28 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

sixteen pieces of ordnance were mounted there in 1629, and in 
1639 a tax was ordered to again rebuild the fort. When the 
foundations of the present fortress were laid, — in March, 1819, — 
the profile of the old ' ffort ' was discovered, and a signet ring was 
found bearing the crest of the Barrons. During the Revolution a 
battery was erected there by the allied forces of De Grasse and 
the Continentals. The work went to decay after the Revolution, 
and Point Comfort and Bush Roe beach became a romantic 
solitude. The land on which the light-house now stands was 
granted to the government Jan. 2, 1791, and the area of the fort 
— two hundred and fifty-two acres — was added by Virginia, 
March i, 1791. Fort Monroe is supposed to have been planned 
by General Simon Bernard, of the corps of engineers, formerly an 
officer of Napoleon. The construction was commenced March, 
1819, under Major Charles Gratiot, and the post named after the 
then President of t'le United States." 



Note 57, p. 86. 

The wanderings of the young pedler are not here very method- 
ically described, but they took him through regions to which the 
following notes refer, collected by Mr. Alcott in 1S81-82: — 

** Westmoreland County has been called the ' Athens of Vir- 
ginia.' Some of the most renowned men in America have been 
born within its borders. Among these may be mentioned Wash- 
ington, Richard Henry Lee, and the late Judge Bushrod Washing- 



I 



MOUNT VERNON. 229 

ton. President Monroe was born at the head of Monroe's Creek ; 
Chantilly, situated upon the Potomac, now in ruins, was once the 
residence of Richard Henry Lee. Upon the same stream, a little 
further up, is Stratford, the family seat of the Lees for many 
generations. The birthplace of Washington was destroyed pre- 
vious to the Revolution ; it stood about half a mile from the 
junction of Pope's Creek with the Potomac. The house was a 
low, single-storied farm-building, with four rooms on the first 
floor, and an enormous chimney at each end on the outside. This 
was the style of the better sort of houses in those days, and they 
are still occasionally seen in the old settlernents of Virginia." 

" Mount Vernon is situated on the western bank of the Poto- 
mac, sixteen miles south of Washington. It is elevated two 
hundred feet or more above the river, which widens into a sort of 
basin by a beautiful curve in its west bank opposite Mount Ver- 
non. The river at this place is about two miles wide ; the man- 
sion is two stories high, of ancient style, strong and durable in its 
construction and material ; a porch fifteen feet wide, extending 
to the eaves, paved with stone on the ground floor, runs the en- 
tire length of the eastern or river front. On the west front of 
the house is an extensive lawn, surrounded by a winding walk, and 
shaded by a variety of forest-trees, flowers, shrubs, and ever- 
greens, which are said to have been selected and planted by 
Washington's own hand. The levee below and the bank are 
covered with a heavy growth of forest trees, which give it a 
romantic aspect." 



230 NEW CONNECT/CUT. 

"King and Queen County contains residences of greater mag- 
nificence than any in the State. On the Mattapony, a beautiful 
stream, are the vestiges of many ancient and once highly improved 
seats, among which are Laneville, Pleasant Hill, Newington, Moun- 
tassise, Mantua, Eickatoe, White Hall, known as the residences 
of the Braxtons, Corbins, Robinsons, etc." 



Note 58, p. 93. 

Extract from Chatfield Alcoft^s Journal of a Trip from Connecti- 
cut to Virginia in 1821. 

** Wolcott, Nov. 7, 1821. Left home at nine o'clock this morn- 
ing ; went by way of Plymouth as far as Watertown, where we 
stayed overnight. Our company consisted of myself and brother 
(A. B. Alcott), cousins Thomas and Ephraim ; a Mr. Judd, from 
Southington, joined at Watertown, — making five of us. 

" Thursday, %th. We left Woodruff's tavern, where we stayed 
overnight, and passed through Woodbury to Southbury, New- 
town, and Danbury, and stayed at a private house overnight. 
We passed the Housatonic River. 

" Friday, ^ik. This morning we entered York State at South- 
east ; thence we passed Patterson, and stayed in Fishkill. The 
people seemed to be mostly Dutch. (In Putnam County.) 

" Saturday, loth. We crossed into Newburgh and went on to 
Salisbury and Washingtonville, where we stayed. 



CHATFIELD ALCOTT'S JOURNAL. 231 

'■^Sunday, wth. Went on to Bloomington to breakfast, and from 
thence through Chester and Warwick to Vernon, in New Jersey. 

" Monday y \2th. Passed through Fame, Sussex Co., and put 
up at a place called Logkill. Here we found Mr. Camp and Mr. 
Curtis, from Plymouth, peddling Terry's patent clocks. 

" Tuesday^ lyA. This day we passed Hope (Warren Co. 
N. J.), and stayed at Easton, in Pennsylvania, at as fine a tavern 
as I ever saw. 

" Wednesday, i^h. We crossed the Delaware on a covered 
bridge, and went on through Bethlehem to Allenstown, where we 
stayed. 

" Thursday, 15M. We passed on to Fitztown and Reading, — a 
very nice place. 

"Friday, i6tk. Crossed the Schuylkill and passed Readsburg 
to Adamstown, within nine miles of Lancaster, where we put up 
at a tavern. 

"Saturday, i^th. Passed Lancaster. This is the largest inland 
town in the United States ; it has twelve hundred inhabitants. 

" Sunday, \%th. Passed York and put up at a small house. 

"Monday, i<^th. We passed Littlestown, and then came into 
the State of Maryland, and stayed at Taneytown. 

*' Tuesday, 20th. We passed through Woodstown and came 
into Frederickstown, a village of seven hundred houses, and put 
up about four miles beyond that place. 

" Wednesday, 2ist. This morning Thomas and Ephraim left 
us and went up the river ; Minor and Judd went across the river. 



232 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

and I and my brother came down the river about ten miles, and 
put up. 

" Thursday, 22d. We proceeded down toward Washington, 
passed by the county Court House, and stayed overnight. 

'■^Friday, 23a?. We proceeded on to Washington City. The 
Capitol is built of marble, and the President's house is one mile 
from the Capitol. Half a mile from the city is Georgetown. 
There we cross the Potomac, and come on to Alexandria, where 
we stay overnight. 

" Saturday, 24///. Very rainy, and we stay in the tavern all day. 

" Sunday^ 2^tk. We leave Alexandria and come on to Mount 
Vernon, and put up at a very good place. 

" Monday, 26tk. Passed on to Occoquan, and thence to Dum- 
fries, and put up ; a very pretty place for Virginia. 

" Tuesday, 2'jth. Passed on through to Stafford Court House, 
and put up. 

*' Wednesday, 2?>th. We came through a poor country to-day, 
and put up at a poor house. 

" Thursday, 2gth. We travelled four or five miles and put up 
at a good house on the banks of the Potomac. 

" Friday, yith. We went on four or five miles and put up at 
an academy with one of the boarders. 

^'■Saturday, December i. Went on ten miles, and put up over 
Sunday at a good place. 

** Sunday, 2d. We stayed at Mr. Parton's. 

" Monday, yi. We parted this morning ; Amos went down 



CHATFIELD ALCOTT'S JOURNAL. 233 

the Neck and I went by the Court House, and down to the Rap- 
pahannock. I expect to go to Norfolk in about three weeks to 
get a better assortment. 

" Norfolk, Va., Sattirday, Jan. 5, 1822. My brother (Bronson 
Alcott) came on from Hampton, having purchased a horse and 
wagon for me, and left it in Westmoreland County. I have been 
in Norfolk a fortnight. 

" Tuesday^ \^th. I am at J. T. All)m's, assorting goods with 
my brother. 

" Thursday, i^th. My brother went to Hampton with a horse 
and wagon. I took property to the amount of $93. 67. I am 
going to Kichmond, and expect to return here by the first of 
March. Amos expects to be here again in a fortnight. 

" Friday noon, \%th. On board the packet for Hampton ; once 
more have I left my country and friends and come to Virginia to 
travel in these Ibnesome woods. But I am glad ; it was my own 
choice, and glad am I, so far. 

^* Saturday, i()tk. Left Amos at Hampton, and went to Mr. 
Mallory's and put up. I am getting accustomed to the ways and 
manners of the people, and like them better and better as I know 
them better. But I shall never settle here ; the people have no 
economy, nor industry, nor perseverance, nor care for much save 
dissipation. 

" Friday, ist February. Left Mr. Duval's, and proceeded on to 
the Battery, where I heard of my brother, and that he was going 
to Richmond in a fortnight, where I intend to be about that time. 



234 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" Tuesday y tjtk. This morning my brother came to me, having 
heard of me at Gloucester Court House, and thought it best for 
me to go to Norfolk and come up again on Friday, and then go 
to Richmond and make arrangements to go to the Northern 
Necks of Virginia. I let my brother have I43, and he sends 
$100 worth of musk-rat skins by me. I found him well, and 
no accident had happened to him. 

" Wednesday, 6th. Left East River, and came in sight of the 
light-house, when the wind fell away and we were becalmed some 
time near the light-house. I am sometimes on the water in a gale, 
and at other times in calm; sometimes on land with plenty to 
eat and drink, and at other times in poverty, with nothing to 
eat ; then sometimes with plenty of money, and sometimes not a 
cent, — and so it is. 

*' Monday, iith. Left Norfolk at nine this morning by the East 
River boat, and reached Matthews at eleven o'clock, and stayed 
on board overnight. 

" Tuesday, i2tk. Left the packet and came on to the Court 
House ; and there met my brother (Bronson Alcott). 



" Friday, May 22. I came to York, and passed over to Glouces- 
ter, and went into the tavern, where I heard of my brother, who 
was in pursuit of me, having just come from North Carolina, and 
wishing to go home. 

*^ Saturday, z^d. My brother came to me this morning with 



THE WALK FROM CAROLINA. 235 

James Allyn, and we went on to the Court House and from there 
to Mr. Duval's, on the Pianketank, and put up. 

" Sunday, 2^h. Rainy in the morning ; in the afternoon we 
came on to Dragonville, and put up there for the night. 

" Monday, z^th. Amos and I went on to a barbecue ; it being 
court-day I got my wagon mended. Amos concluded to go home 
on foot, and started about ten o'clock. I let him have $8.50 to go 
with." 

Note 59, p. 98. 

Between April 12, 1822, and May 15, or thereabout, Bronson 
Alcott was in Warrenton, N. C, under the circumstances de- 
scribed on pages 95-97. His brother Chatfield, on May 22, heard 
of him as on his way from Warrenton to Wolcott ; met him the 
next day in Gloucester County, Va., and parted from him May 25 
in King and Queen County, as above mentioned. In later years 
Bronson Alcott wrote these notes of this 

Walk from Warrenton to Wolcott. 

" Wishing to pass unmolested on my way, and as speedily as 
possible, I took the shortest route from Warrenton to the Northern 
Necks of Virginia, where I hoped to find my brother. My slender 
avails from my writing-classes were not sufficient to take me by 
stage. As my brother was not then about returning home when I 
met him, I set forth from Westmoreland on my journey north. It 
was a long way, — the season sultry, the roads dusty ; but a steady 



236 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

persistency and the safe goal in my eye kept me stepping along day 
after day. I came late at the inns and was off early in the morning, 
resting at times, and napping under the shade-trees, with my budget 
for a pillow. At Baltimore I fell into the great road which I had 
travelled once before with my cousin. On reaching Amboy, New 
Jersey, to take the steamer, I found my boots were unmanageable, 
and cast them into the dock. When the bell rang for the fare I 
paid mine with the rest, but the steward presently returned it with 
the captain's compliments. It was dusk when the steamer touched 
the pier at New York, where the hackmen were. * Ride, sir ? ' 
' Carriage, sir ? ' No ; the gentleman in stocking-feet passed on, 
and to the shoe-dealer's, and went thence shod as others are ; the 
tailor, too, in Maiden Lane, mending his coat while he slept. The 
next morning saw him on the packet-boat for Norwalk, whence he 
walked through Bridgeport, Derby, and Waterbury on his way. 
On reaching Spindle Hill there remained sixpence of the Warren- 
ton moneys, and the invaluable experience it shall take years to 
count for him." 

In the Autobiographical Index printed on pages 206-212, the 
time of this walk is given as June, but it began May 18, perhaps, 
in an early evening escape from Warrenton, and ended about June 
10 at Wolcott. 

The following letters relate to the year 1822; beginning with two 
from Mr. Alcott's parents. 



FAMILY LETTERS. 237 



From Mrs. Anna Branson Ale ox. 

"WoLCOTT, January 20, 1822. 

•* Affectionate Son, — I received your letter unexpectedly, 
and have abundant reason to be thankful that I have a son who 
has so tender a regard for his father and mother, brothers and 
sisters, and is always so willing to assist them, in everything that 
he is able to do, with pleasure and satisfaction. And may that 
disposition always live and grow in you ! I have great reason to 
be very thankful that my health is still preserved, and that yours 
and Chatfield's is also. I do not forget to praise the Lord for his 
goodness in preserving you both on your journey, and your pros- 
perity depends upon your putting your trust in that Being who 
rules and governs all things. May He give you a disposition 
to pray for each other, as you have had but very weak petitions 
put up from a mother last winter, owing to my weak state of 
mind. 

" We are very lonesome this winter. Pamela is gone most of the 
time from home, and Betsy and Phebe go to school. But we are 
in peace, and have provisions of all kinds necessary for our com- 
fort, and if you will come home, I will have my table spread with 
the choicest we have, and what you best like. 

" I leave you in the hands of Him who preserves us all. 

"Anna Alcox." 



238 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

From Mr. Joseph Chatfield Alcox. 

" WoLCOTT, January 27, 1822. 
"My dear Sons, — I received your letter of the 19th very un- 
expectedly, which brought the good news that you were both well 
and contented. We are all well and live contentedly. After you 
left home, I repaired my porch and made ready for winter. I have 
been busily engaged in taking care of my cattle. I have a good 
pile of wood ; my threshing is all done. We have had very little 
snow, but good sleighing most of the time. I do not go out in the 
cold but very little, but take care of my cattle and make boxes. I 
think of you both every day, and offer my prayers for your success 
in business, for preservation of your health, and that you may be 
guarded from the evils that so easily beset us all, and run the 
Christian race with patience and fortitude. Be prudent and in- 
dustrious, persevere in well-doing, so that you may look to God 

for his blessing. 

" Your father, 

"Joseph C. Alcox." 

To Chatfield Alcott. 

"Petersburg, November 24, 1822. 

" Dear Brother, — I avail myself of this means to inform you 

of my present adventure and prospects. Cousin Thomas is with 

me. We left home on the 27th of October, and reached here last 

evening. Our purpose is to leave in a few days for North Caro- 



FAMILY LETTERS. 239 

lina, and take out licenses for trading in the counties of Perqui- 
mans and Chowan, near Edenton. I shall hope to meet you in 
Norfolk, or at least hear from you at New Year's. 

" Dear brother, I have plans to retrieve my fortunes, and make 
some money to pay my debts. I have seen the folly of my past 
extravagance, and hope you will take timely warning by my ex- 
ample. A young man at twenty-three should have learned his 
lesson at less cost than I have. Our father's counsels were wise, 
and I, at least, should have taken the consequences of my folly, 
and spared his anxieties and embarrassments. Do you say this 
advice, these cautions sound singular from me .? Well, prudence 
is a duty ; we must not squander other people's money for such 
costly outfits as I have done. You have been less extravagant 
than myself, but the best of us may be led astray, as I have been 
by others, weak and half-willing as I was. Pray think of these 
things in time, and spare our parents and friends at home further 
troubles. I wish you would send my books, as soon as you can 
reach them at Loudon, to the care of B. Tisdale, Norfolk, where 
I hope to meet you at New Year's. 

" Your brother, 

"Amos B. Alcox." 

Note 60, p. 99. 
We have this account, perhaps a little overdrawn, of the seat of 
the Pages, at which the young pedlers called : — 
"One of the noblest ancient homes of the Old/ Dominion is 



240 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

Rosewell House, in Gloucester County. Looking at the massive 
grandeur of the high cube-like structure, you are compelled to won- 
der how, even in monarchical and aristocratic times, the expenses 
of such an establishment could be supported. It stands like an 
old English castle in solitary grandeur, a striking memento of the 
days when the Virginian aristocracy was the noblest in the land. It 
is built of bricks, every one of which was imported from England. 
The roof is flat, and was originally covered with heavy lead over 
the shingles. Richly carved mahogany wainscotings and capi- 
tals and stairways adorn the interior, and its situation is beauti- 
fully romantic. A few old trees, remnants of a noble grove, are 
standing in the rear, and in front spreads a fair, wide lawn stretch- 
ing down to the banks of the York, of which a glorious view is 
obtainable from the roof of the mansion. Rosewell House was 
formerly the seat of the Pages, — a distinguished family, some of 
whose members have at various times filled the highest civil and 
military offices of the Old Dominion. The mansion was built by 
Mann Page, grandson of Sir John Page, the original founder of 
the family in the New World. He was probably the wealthiest 
landholder of his time in Virginia, with the single exception of the 
Fairfaxes. He united in his person the rich inheritances of the 
Manns and the Pages. His landed estates were scattered over 
every portion of the State. He had eleven thousand acres, called 
Pageland, in Prince William County, eight thousand acres in 
Frederick, forty-five thousand in Spottsylvania, an estate called 
Pampike of one thousand acres in King William, two thousand in 



THE PAGES OF VIRGINIA. 241 

Hanover, fifteen hundred in James City, besides others elsewhere, 
and the magnificent plantation on the York River to which Rose- 
well gave its name. His heirs sold some of this land at various 
times to liquidate certain debts ; but the Pages of Rosewell were 
always among the foremost citizens of the colony. John Page, 
the grandson of Rose well's founder, was governor of Virginia in 
r8o2. Representative to Congress, judge, and a friend of Jeffer- 
son, he was distinguished for talents and patriotism, and fulfilled 
his numerous trusts with fidelity and honor. He died in 1808, 
and his son was the last of the name who ever inhabited 
Rosewell." 



Note 61, p. loi. 

Reaching Wolcott in the manner here described, Bronson Alcott 
again meets his wiser cousin, William, and benefits by his coun- 
sels. The following verses seem to describe his life in the summer 
of 1822: — 

" Adventurous Instinct, Life's auspicious bird, 
Lured us far forward,- with unsated zest ; 
Anon her swift wings, by Fate undeterred, 
Convey us homeward to the native nest. 

" Now in this graver cousin's company 

Past fortunes and misfortunes we '11 renew ; 
Recall those follies penitentially. 
And earliest studies further will pursue. 



242 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" So book and journal occupy his hours, 

While in farm-labors he short respite gains, 
Save when the drooping cloud sheds tearful showers, 
Or when from lathe and chisel he refrains. 

" Enticed from home and often led astray 
By old illusions, till the insidious slip, — 
Henceforth our pilgrim would his wit display 
In village schoolmaster's apprenticeship. 

" His town shall see the writing-master's hand, 
Since he must children teach to wield the quill, 
Not now far off, in luckless Southern land. 
But yonder, at the Store, on Wolcott Hill." 

The first essay at regular school-keeping has been made in the 
neighboring town of Bristol, where also his cousin William was 
teaching near by. Of this and of his school in Cheshire, Mr. 
Alcott writes : — 

" There in the vale clasped by o'erhanging hills. 
On thrifty Bristol's narrow, populous street. 
Where the bridged streamlet turns its busy mills. 
The young schoolmaster shall his pupils greet. 

" Across the brook, in sight, that early friend i 
Gathers his pupils 'neath the village spire ; 
Enthusiasts both, we punctually attend 

Bright wits to kindle, build our morning fire. 

> William Alcott, whom Sonnet I., in Part II. of the *' Sonnets and Canzon- 
ets," describes. 



1 



THE CHESHIRE SCHOOL. 243 

" Not to this narrow neighborhood confined, 
Their lighted torches shine a longer way, — 
Taught less from books than from the living mind, 
Their cordial methods now find ample sway. 

*' Short time shall pass ere rumor's windy tongue 
May blow applauding accents far and near, 
Loud shall the teacher's native art be sung, 
And his new notions, lively, fresh, and dear. 

" While o'er prim Cheshire's academic Green, 

With well-filled satchels dangling at their side. 
The glad ambitious boys and girls are seen, 

The school their pleasure and their parents' pride ; 

" Not to mute pages at the desk confined, 
Vague repetitions of some ancient text, 
But frolic and fair learning are combined, — 
Much is the pupil taught, the pedant vexed. 

'• A graeious maiden ^ casts a favoring glance 

And earnest furtherance gives his goodly scheme. 
Gilds the dim future with its glad romance, 
Then gives herself to consummate the dream." 

Speaking of these last fragments, Mr. Alcott, in the autumn of 
1882, thus wrote : — 



^ Miss May, afterward Mrs Alcott, to whom Sonnets I. -XIII., and Son- 
net XXI. relate. Mrs. Alcott was born in 1800, and died in October, 1877. 



244 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

" The incidents described in these verses do not warrant poetic 
treatment ; and if detailed at all, should be written out in prose, 
as should the lines entitled ' The Schoolmaster,' given in these 
notes. The life, from this time, takes a poetic form, — as given 
in the 'Sonnets and Canzonets.' Then may follow prose, till the 
Fruitlands' Idyl, of 1843. 

" From Bristol I went to Cheshire to be an amanuensis to Dr. 
Bronson, then editor of the ' Churchman's Magazine.' During 
the summer I was engaged in copying matter for the * Magazine,' 
and in studies as preparative for teaching. I read Edgeworth's 
' Practical Education,' ' Kett's ' Elements,' Watts's ' Logic,' Millar's 
' Retrospect,' ' Dwight's * Theology,' Reid's Philosophy of Com- 
mon Sense, Locke's * Essay on the Human Understanding,' Stew- 
art's Philosophy, etc." 

Letters from Bronson Alcott. 
I. To Chatfield Alcott, at Paris, N. Y. 

" Cheshire, Conn., June 15, 1825. 
"Dear Brother, — By this letter you will learn where I am, 
and how employed. I came hither soon after closing my school at 
Bristol, and have been here since, saving a short jaunt of a few 
weeks canvassing for the 'Churchman's Magazine.' My prospects 
are now most hopeful. That dismal ague caught in Carolina has 
been dismissed, and I enjoy copying my uncle's articles for his 
' Magazine ' and pursuing my studies. I was at Spindle Hill 



LETTERS OF BRONSON ALCOTT 245 

lately, and sat by the old hearthside with our honored parents ; 
they feel rather lonely in these days, — most of us having left them 
for an independent pursuit. It is for us to remember them when 
afar or near. I only regret that I have given them pain by my past 
extravagances." 

2. To his Father and Mother. 

"Cheshire, Nov. i, 1825. 
" Dear Parents, — I began my school here yesterday with the 
prospect of continuing during the coming six months. I am to be 
paid $18 a month, and board with my uncle, who has spoken good 
words for me to parents and school-committee. It is the Cheshire 
Central district school. This school has been thought a difficult 
one to manage, but I doubt not my ability to secure good order 
and successful results. The chief defect is less in children gen- 
erally than in the want of good government at home. I am 
flattered by the estimate in which my services are held by the 
parents who placed their children under my charge in the school 
at Bristol. Mr. Roberts, the school-committee man there, came 
down here the other day, wishing to engage me for another season, 
offering high wages. But, for various reasons, chiefest of which is 
my uncle's company, I concluded to remain here. You may look 
for me to partake with you the Thanksgiving meals. I am pleased 
to learn that my little brothers are good boys, and attend school." 



246 NEW CONNECTICUT. 

3. To Williatn A, Alcott, at New Haven. 

"Cheshire, Jan, 13, 1826. 

" My dear Friend, — I reached here on the morning I left you 
in time to open my school at the usual hour, much pleased with 
my bath and visit. My young charge is gaining daily my affec- 
tions, and my efforts have thus far been attended with the most 
encouraging success. The parents have given me their con- 
fidence and encouragement; my prospects are most flattering. 
My numbers are not far from seventy ; they range from three to 
eighteen years of age. Nearly half of these write with the quill, 
and all with the pencil ; the least and youngest turn pretty and 
delicate curves, surprising to teachers of the old practice. My 
classes are many in the common branches taught in our district 
schools. The novelty of my methods is attractive to the scholars, 
and their progress most gratifying to themselves and their parents. 
The school has drawn many visitors from far and near. But 
I would not imply by this that some few of the parents do not 
prefer the older routine of teaching and discipline, or are silent 
concerning their preferences. I find myself in a sphere of useful- 
ness unexpected and gratifying. I seem to have found the calling 
for which I am best fitted ; perhaps born to it. No one better knows 
than yourself the schooling which has brought me to this convic- 
tion. It seems as if by birth and early association we had been 
providentially training for this employment, — our wanderings 
and experiences at the South giving us important lessons in life. 



LETTERS OF BRONSON ALCOTT 247 

Our friendship dates almost from the dawning consciousness in 
our cradles ; and childhood and youth have shared our affec- 
tions and adventures. Let me add, my dear friend, my obligations 
to yourself for kindly counsel, care, and even admonition, when I 
strayed from the plain path of duty. Our future opens with 
promises of usefulness. I wish you every advantage for studies 
at the School from which you hope to derive the knowledge fitting 
you for your chosen profession. Your letters are always ac- 
ceptable. I wish mine were more deserving of your kindness and 
affection." 

In copying his early correspondence for printing, Mr. Alcott 
has occasionally omitted and inserted matter, in order to give the 
story of the time more clearly. Any repetitions in these letters 
may thus be explained. In some cases the originals have been 
used by the editor. 



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with curiosity. It will not disappoint expectation. She has made a brilliant and 
an interesting book. Her study of Margaret Fuller's character is thoroughly 
sympathetic ; her relation of her life is done in a graphic and at times a fascinating 
manner. It is the case of one woman of strong individuality depicting the points 
which made another one of the most marked characters of her day. It is always 
agreeable to follow Mrs. Howe in this ; for while we see marks of her own mind 
constantly, there is no inartistic protrusion of her personality. The book is always 
readable, and the relation of the death-scene is thrillingly impressive." — Satur- 
day Gazette. 

" Mrs. Julia Ward Howe has retold the story of Margaret Fuller's life and 
career in a very interesting manner. This remarkable woman was happy in 
having James Freeman Clarke, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and William Henry 
Channing, all of whom had been intimate with her and had felt the spell of her 
extraordinary personal irfluence, for her biographers. It is needless to say, of 
course, that nothing could be better than these reminiscences in their way." — 
New York World. 

"The selection of Mrs. Howe as the writer of this biography was a happy 
thought on the part of the editor of the series ; for, aside from the natural appre- 
ciation she would have for Margaret Fuller, comes her knowledge of all the 
influences that had their effect on Margaret Fuller's life. She tells the story of 
Margaret Fuller's interesting life from all sources and from her own knowledge, 
not hesitating to use plenty of quotations when she felt that others, or even 
Margaret Fuller herself, had done the work better." — i7/«j Gilder., in Philadel- 
phia Press. 

Sold by all booksellers. Mailed,. post-paid, on receipt of 
the price, by the publishers, 

ROBERTS BROTHERS, 

Boston, Mass. 



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